


SPN Hiatus Writing Challenge

by MrsWhozeewhatsis (OxfordCommaLover)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Heavy Angst, Jealous Dean Winchester, Louden Swain SPN Writing Challenge, Mild Smut, SPN Hiatus Writing Challenge, Smut, angsty fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 15:44:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 29,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7112182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OxfordCommaLover/pseuds/MrsWhozeewhatsis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>@one-shots-supernatural over on Tumblr is hosting a weekly writing challenge to help us all get through Hellatus. I won't be able to participate every week, but the weeks where I do get to write, I'll put my submissions here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You're In The Big Time, Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Please, point your gun at me if it helps you relax."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know this is super late, but it’s been bugging me more and more as the weeks went on that I missed the first week. I really thought I wouldn’t be able to keep up with this challenge, and now that I’ve been almost perfect, I needed to just spit something out for the one week I missed just to satisfy my OCD. This is it. Check out @one-shots-supernatural for other submissions and requirements to participate in this challenge! Un-beta’d, so all mistakes are mine!

You were in the library, brushing up on your Enochian, when suddenly a man in a dark suit appeared across the table from you. You’d only been with the Winchesters for a couple of weeks, but you knew it wasn’t supposed to be possible for anything to just appear in the bunker. Jumping up, you reached for your gun, only to realize you’d left it sitting on the table. Unfortunately, it was closer to the intruder than it was to you.

“Y/N?” he asked, with a British accent that would have charmed you if he hadn’t just poofed into existence out of nowhere in what the Winchesters had promised was the safest place in the world. His eyes tracked your gaze as you glanced between him and the gun and he sighed. “Please, point your gun at me if it helps you relax.” He moved away from the table and the gun, giving you a chance to grab it and level it at him.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” you demanded, keeping your gun trained on his head.

“I take it they didn’t send you the message that I was coming for you? Bloody imbeciles!” He rolled his eyes, and walked over to the liquor cabinet, making himself at home with a bottle of whiskey and a glass.

Your phone chimed, and you checked it, trying to read without taking your eyes off of the intruder.

_Sending someone to pick you up. Need all hands on deck. Will explain when you get here._

Looking up, you saw the look of disgust he made at the glass of whiskey and rolled your eyes, putting your gun away in the back of your pants. “So, what kind of friend can teleport into the most protected place on earth, and then sticks his nose up at free whiskey?”

The man looked up from the glass and studied you for a moment. “I think that’s better left for the Winchesters to explain.” He stopped you from heading towards your room to pack. “You won’t need a bag, because this won’t take long, we just need a little backup cleaning up a mess. Come with me, and we’ll have you home in time for tea, I promise.” He offered you his hand, holding it out as if he were asking you to dance.

Still unsure of what was going on, but trusting that the Winchesters wouldn’t put you in danger, you took his hand. The world popped around you like a bubble, and you were standing in a motel room facing the brothers.

Sam pulled you toward him and put an arm around you. “Are you okay?”

Looking back and forth between the brothers and the stranger nervously, you appreciated Sam’s reassurance. “Yeah. Who is this guy, anyway?”

Both Winchesters flushed and stammered for a moment, giving the man in the suit a chance to interrupt. “Crowley. King of Hell. It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear,” he said with a bow of his head.

You jumped away from all three men, looking at them all with your mouth agape and wide eyes. “You sent the King of Hell to get me like some messenger boy?”

Both brothers shrugged and gave you sheepish smiles.

Closing your eyes, you shook your head and sighed. “What have I gotten myself into??”


	2. "I know! Isn't it great?"

Dean didn’t know if Crowley really thought this was a gift, or if he was just finding a new and improved way of pissing him off. Probably the latter.

“Y/N, it’s a _Hellhound_!” Dean felt his blood pressure skyrocketing and wondered if this might actually kill him. Maybe that was Crowley’s goal all along?

“I know! Isn’t it great?” Y/N was petting and playing and laughing, her eyes brighter than he’d seen them in a long time, with what appeared to be thin air. If he couldn’t hear the little barks and snuffling noises and see the slobber left on her face, he would think she was hallucinating.

“No, Y/N, it’s not great, it’s a fucking _HELLHOUND_! We can’t keep a Hellhound! We can’t even see it, how are we supposed to care for it??”

Y/N frowned, and Dean immediately felt like something stuck to the bottom of a shoe. Things had been rough since Charlie died, and Y/N had borne the brunt of it. She’d loved Charlie so much, and just hadn’t been able to see anything but darkness since her death. No matter how ridiculous this situation was, it was the first time Dean had seen her genuinely laugh in over a year.

Y/N had pulled the puppy into her arms, and was petting it while it seemed to settle into her embrace. Dean’s heart broke, and he began trying to come up with ways to make this work, in spite of how utterly ridiculous the idea was. He didn’t even want a regular dog in the bunker, much less an invisible dog with unknown demonic powers.

But he couldn’t break her heart again.

With a deep sigh, he groaned. “All right. Call Crowley. If he can make the thing visible, and you promise to take care of it and train it and not let it chew up shit or poop on the carpet, then you can keep it.”

Y/N’s happy squeal was almost enough to convince him this was a good idea. The puppy slobber on his cheek almost made him reconsider. The tender kiss Y/N left on his other cheek, though, that’s what sealed his fate. Yeah well, at least Sam would finally have the dog he’d always wanted. Sort of.


	3. "There's an interesting story behind that."

Coming around the corner with a snack in one hand and a mug of hot chocolate in the other, you almost spilled everything when you saw Dean looking at your laptop. His eyes were bugged out and his face was red and you suddenly worried about his heart, considering his diet. You knew what he was reading, and you quickly turned around to make an escape before he saw you.

“ _Y/N!!!!! Get your ass back here and tell me what the fuck I’m looking at on your laptop!!!_ ” Dean bellowed.

Slowly, you turned around and inched back towards the entrance to the library, wishing you had had enough sense to close your computer before leaving it alone. You’d thought Sam and Dean were both in bed for the night. Apparently, you were wrong.

Trudging over to the table, you flinched from the fury you saw on Dean’s face. “There’s an interesting story behind that,” you said quietly, putting down your midnight snack and trying to give Dean your best puppy eyes.

Dean didn’t seem moved, though. “I can’t think of a single damn reason why you would be reading this shit,” Dean spat out, almost knocking over the laptop with his hand as he waved at it.

You sighed and sat down next to him. He would never understand, but he wouldn’t let it go without an explanation. “Well, when Chuck was here, I asked him if he’d kept writing about you guys, and he said he had. He stopped after Amara was let loose, and started working on that memoir, but he had kept going. He’d even gotten them published, thinking that the Winchester Gospel needed to be out there in the case the worst happened.”

Dean slumped over the table, hiding his face in his hands as he groaned. “Fuck. There’s gonna be more of those frickin’ conventions. Becky better keep us the fuck out of it.” Dean wiped his hands down his face and turned back to you. “Okay. Go on,” he said, rolling his eyes.

Wringing your hands, you tried to keep your voice steady, even though Dean was sitting in front of you, still as a very angry statue. “I got curious, so I went online and found them and read them. I wanted to know how I came across; you know?”

You looked up at Dean, still trying out your puppy eyes, but he was still glaring at you.

“Once I finished reading the books, I found the fan sites and started stalking around, just to see what people thought of me.” Your voice had gotten very quiet, and you wondered if Dean could even hear you.

“I get that, Y/N. But I don’t get _this_.” Dean pointed at your screen again and frowned.

“Well, one thing led to another, and I found out about the ships and the fics, and started looking up fics with me in them, and, well, it just kind of grew from there.”

Dean’s face got red again. “ _You’re reading about me and Cas, Y/N!!_ You know the truth! You know we’re not like that! Why would you read this shit?” A trace of fear and distrust laced into Dean’s voice and you grabbed his hand to try and soothe him.

“No, Dean, it’s not like that! The stories I read aren’t really about you and Cas. They’re about two guys who just happen to look like you and Cas, and have your names, but they’re not hunters or angels, they’re accountants, or rock stars, or mechanics, or teachers. The stories I read are all normal stories without demons or angels or monsters, and they’re just,” you paused, hoping Dean wouldn’t blow up at what you were about to say, “they’re just cute.”

“ _Cute???”_ Dean exclaimed, horror all over his face. “I am not _cute_!!”

You couldn’t stifle your laugh, and giggled harder when Dean looked even more horrified at your laughter. “Okay, Dean, if you say so, you’re not cute.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously, but you just smirked and tried not to giggle harder.

Trying to salvage things, you tried to explain further. “Maybe Kickass Hunter Dean Winchester and Badass Mother Fucker Angel of the Lord Castiel are not cute, but Accountant Cas and English Teacher Dean are really cute. They have problems, but they always work them out and find each other. There’s always a happy ending (except in that one about Elvis, but we don’t talk about that one), and they’re always so in love with each other, and it’s just nice and fluffy and cute.” You shrugged and cocked your head to the side, hoping Dean would understand.

Dean’s sails seemed to have the wind knocked out of them while he stared at you for a long, uncomfortable moment. “What you’re saying is, they’re an escape for you.”

You nodded, giving Dean a sad smile. “It’s nice to think about normal people out there in the world overcoming normal problems. I mean, that’s why we do what we do, right? So they can do that.”

Dean sighed and ran a hand over his face, then gave you half a smile. “Yeah, pretty much.” His eyes drifted over the screen again for a moment. “But why read this stuff? Why not read actual books about imaginary people?”

You shrugged. “Well, this stuff is free, it’s remarkably well-written, and it’s kind of nice to see how each story changes the characters around, but keeps the same basic elements. It’s also comfortable, because I don’t have to try and figure out new characters all the time. No strain on the brain. It’s good stuff to read before going to sleep. Makes me have nice dreams.” You reached for your hot chocolate, which was almost cool, and focused on that while you took a long drink.

When you set down your mug, Dean took you into his arms and hugged you. “Well, if it does that, then I’m all for it.” He kissed you on the head, then got up to leave. “Good night, Y/N,” he said as he walked away.

“Night, Dean!” you said to Dean’s back as he disappeared around the corner. When you were sure he was gone, you opened up a new blank document and tapped your chin while you thought. “What if Dean were a firefighter and he rescued Cas from a tree during a fire?” With a happy squeak, you took a bite of your snack and stated typing.


	4. Nothing Left But You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Be quiet, they'll hear you."

You were drunk. Beyond drunk. More like FUBAR’d, as the kids in school used to say. Earlier today, your little band of hunters, which included Charlie and the Winchesters, killed the thing that had killed your family.

Well, that wasn’t true. It was supposed to be your kill, but Dean had stepped in before you could strike the killing blow and took it away from you.

On the one hand, it was dead. Yay! On the other hand, it was your kill and Dean had no right to take it from you. This is what you were telling Charlie as you finished off the bottle of whiskey in your bedroom. Apparently, you were getting a little loud, though.

“Be quiet, Y/N, or you’ll wake them up and they’ll hear you,” Charlie said, trying to shush you since you were getting loud and it was well after 3AM.

“Maybe I want them to hear me!” you declared, even louder, feeling the full head of steam building up inside of you. “Maybe I want them to know that I’m pissed that they took this kill away from me! It was my family, Charlie, my kill.” You brought the whiskey bottle back to your lips and frowned when nothing poured out of it. Giving the empty bottle a bitch face, you tried to throw it across the room, but Charlie grabbed it before it left your hand.

“I was there, Y/N, that thing was about to filet you. If Dean hadn’t stepped in when he did, you’d be dead right now.”

You watched Charlie throw the bottle into the trash with eyes at half mast, then dropped your head to stare at your hands. “So?”

Charlie spun back around to face you so fast you felt the breeze on your skin. “What do you mean by that, Y/N?? Are you telling me you didn’t care if it killed you? That monster took your family from you, and you were just going to lay down and let it take you, too?”

You flinched at Charlie’s words and obvious anger. Her voice had risen, now, as well, and you wondered exactly how soundproof the bunker’s walls were. Your head suddenly felt much clearer than it had before, and you wished you had another bottle. With that thought, the world went for a little spin around you, and you fell over onto your bed with a groan. “There’s just nothing left, now, Charlie. I had everything, and then I had nothing but the job. The job’s done, now, Charlie. I knew I wouldn’t survive killing it, and I was okay with that, as long as I killed it. But I didn’t kill it, and I’m still alive, and I don’t have anything else to do, now. I’ve got no family, I’ve got no job, I’ve got no boyfriend or anything like that, and soon the boys will kick me out of here and I’ll be homeless, too, so what am I supposed to do, now?” Tears streamed sideways down your face, dripping off your nose onto the pillow underneath your face.

Charlie slumped in front of you. “Oh, honey. You do so have family, and it’s all right here in this bunker. The Winchesters wouldn’t throw you out of here for anything, Y/N. And you’ve got a job. You’re a hunter, and a damn good one, at that.” Charlie lay down on the bed next to you, resting her head on the other pillow and letting her eyes roam your face.

You wiped some of the tears from your face and looked at your friend with a sad smile. “Next you’re gonna tell me Dean’s been secretly pining for me all this time, and I’m actually an heiress with magical powers.” You sniffed and buried your face in the pillow with a groan.

Charlie rubbed your arm to comfort you. “If it makes you feel any better, I know Dean cares about you, even if it isn’t in the way you want him to.” She stroked your hair, trying to uncover your face and you opened your eyes to look at her. “Besides, you are a kickass woman who doesn’t need a man to feel complete.”

Huffing a laugh, you managed a small smile. “Being kickass doesn’t keep me warm at night, Charlie.” You sighed and closed your eyes again. “But now that this is over, I really need to leave and get away from Dean. He’ll never feel about me the way I feel about him, and sticking around will only make it hurt worse. Even if they don’t kick me out, I have to go.”

“You’re not going anywhere, Y/N,” Dean said from somewhere behind you. Sitting up, you turned around and saw him standing just inside the door, a whole host of emotions playing across his face.

Your brain sloshed in your head, still soaked in alcohol, and all you could say was, “Huh?”

“I said, you’re not going anywhere, Y/N.” Dean sounded angry, and you flinched a little at his voice. “I’m sorry I took your kill away from you today, but I’d rather you be pissed at me than dead.” Dean looked at Charlie, and she got up off the bed and quietly left the room, closing the door behind her. When the door latched with a quiet click, Dean stepped towards you and sat down on the bed next to you. “If you’re pissed at me, then there’s hope that someday you’ll get over it and you’ll let me get close to you again. But either way, you’re not leaving.” He cupped your face in his hands and looked into your eyes steadily. “You’re family, and you’re staying.”

His eyes captivated you, all the different shades of green and flecks of gold framed by full lashes and shining out amidst a sea of freckles. You were powerless to do anything while he was so close to you and looking at you like that. Your muddled brain couldn’t keep up with the impressions your eyes were soaking in, and that’s why you didn’t realize he was about to kiss you until his lips met yours.

It was a gentle kiss, just his lips sliding against yours, with a little nibble of your lip at the end. He pulled back, checking your face for a reaction, searching for a sign that what he’d done was okay. You saw his disappointment, and realized you’d frozen to the spot, making him think his advance was unwanted. Needing to change that, you took his head in your hands and surged forward, claiming his lips with your own.

Your kiss was sloppy and uncoordinated due to the amount of alcohol still running through your system, but it gave Dean the answer he was looking for. Trying not to break the kiss, you climbed into his lap so you could get closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly against him. His hair felt soft as you held his head to yours and threaded your fingers through the spiky strands.

When Dean finally came up for air, his eyes stayed closed for a moment as you both worked to control your breathing. When he finally opened them, you could see the war raging inside of him. “As much as I want this, you’re way too drunk tonight, so I think we need to wait.” He heaved a huge sigh, closing his eyes for a moment again before looking at you steadily. “I should go, and we should pick up this conversation again in the morning.”

He moved to pick you up and sit you down next to him, but you hugged him tightly, hanging onto his neck like he was the last life preserver on a sinking ship. “Dean, please stay. We don’t have to do anything, but please, just stay tonight?”

Dean stopped trying to push you off of him, but still leaned back to look into your eyes. You tried to give him your best puppy eyes, complete with a cute little pouty smile, and he broke immediately. “All right. I’ll stay.”

You rewarded his decision with a megawatt smile. “Good. Just to sleep, though, because I’m not sure if I have the energy to kiss both of the two of you I’m seeing right now.” Your eyes crossed a little as you tried to focus and Dean laughed.

Dean shucked his clothes down to just a t-shirt and boxers while you changed into your pajama pants and tank top while his back was turned. He let you crawl into the bed first, then turned off the light and climbed in behind you, pulling your back against his chest and curling around you. His warmth seeped into you and made you relax immediately. Rubbing the arm that was holding you to him, you smiled.

“Is this really real, Dean?”

Dean kissed your neck and sent a shiver down your body. “Completely real, sweetheart. I’m yours as long as you want me.”

You fell asleep quickly, and for the first night in a long time, you had happy dreams of the future instead of haunting nightmares of your past.


	5. Trickster or Treats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "How about no?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without a terrific beta from @thing-you-do-with-that-thing and the SPNFanficPond chatroom folks, this wouldn't be as awesome as it is! They really pulled this one out of the crapper!

You were sorting and folding laundry when you heard the familiar ruffle of feathers that announced an angel’s appearance. You didn’t even have to look to know it was Gabriel, based on the sweet smell of cookies that seemed to waft from him. Once Chuck and Amara had made up, Chuck had gone about trying to right some wrongs, and bringing back Gabriel to help run Heaven was one of them.

Running Heaven, however, was boring. At least, that’s what Gabe said. Apparently, Heaven was now dictated via endless meetings that not even an archangel had the power to circumvent. To alleviate his boredom, Gabe had taken to coming to the bunker, or whatever motel you all were staying at during hunts, and offering “a helping hand.” Sometimes, he actually was a help. Most times, he was like a bored child in need of eternal attention, playing pranks, making jokes, and being generally destructive.

“Heya, Sweetcheeks! Just the girl I wanted to see!” Gabe grinned, as he flopped onto your bed, bouncing a couple of times from the force of his flop. He made himself comfortable, stretching out onto his side and propping his head up on one hand. “I need your help, Babycakes. I have an idea for an EPIC prank on the plaid twins, but I need you or it won’t work. How ‘bout it, Dollface?”

Glaring at him from over your laundry with what you hoped was your best bitch face, and trying to ignore your sudden craving for cookies, you said, “How about no, Gabe?” It took a lot to squash the butterflies in your stomach and keep a hard line with Gabe. Resisting the cookie smell was the first hurdle, then it was avoiding the laughter in his eyes. Even though he could be funny, he managed to hurt those you cared about too often with his pranks, and you just couldn’t give in to him.

Gabe pouted cutely, but you were unmoved. “Aw, c’mon, honeylamb! It’ll be fun!” You shook your head, not even justifying his demand with a verbal response. Gabe pouted even more, sticking his lower lip out so far you thought someone might trip over it. “Please? Please please pleasepleaseplease????” When you still shook your head, this time with a serious glare at him, he sighed and flopped back on the bed melodramatically. “Why not?”

You cocked your head to the side and stared at Gabe in amazement. “Seriously? You don’t know why not? Your pranks are too big and you take them too far, Gabe. The last time you played an ‘EPIC PRANK’ on the Winchesters, you killed Dean over 100 times, making Sam relive the same day over and over again. That wasn’t enough for you, though. You made them think it was over, and then killed Dean again, and made Sam suffer for six months. Too big, TOO FAR!” You put your hands on your hips and glared at Gabe until he looked sufficiently contrite.

“I mean, I had my reasons at the time, but I guess I can see your point.” Gabe frowned, then sat back up and watched you as you went back to folding laundry, making an appreciative noise when you pulled out a pair of panties and folded them neatly. With a snap of his fingers, Gabe was changed into a bellhop outfit, complete with red vest and cheesy moustache, a la Casa Erotica.

Glancing up, you took note of the outfit and stifled a giggle when he waggled his eyebrows.

“Well, if you’re not in the mood to play games with the Losechesters, maybe you’d prefer to play hide the kielbasa, instead? Or, if I guess the color of your underwear, maybe I get a prize? Huh? Or, or, or…. If you guess how many licks it takes to get to the center of my Tootsie Roll Pop, then you’ll get a prize?” Gabe’s eyebrows seemed to be in permanent waggle mode, and it took everything you had not to burst into loud laughter.

“Um, sorry, Gabe. Maybe some other time.” You smiled at the angel, stifling your giggle, and putting aside the spark of interest you felt. No matter how interesting his “prize” might be, and you definitely  _ weren’t _ thinking about his “Tootsie Roll Pop,” you just didn’t fully trust him, yet.

Another snap of his fingers and Gabe was back in his regular clothes. He shrugged and flopped back down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Yeah well. Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He lay there for about half a minute before his foot started rocking, and soon he was shifting almost constantly, tapping toes or twitching fingers, humming a tuneless melody and generally being annoying in his boredom.

“Gabe!! Can’t you sit still for even a minute!” you yelled when one of his flailing limbs knocked over a pile of folded clothes.

“I’m BORED, Tastycake!! I need something to DO!!” With a snap of his fingers, your laundry was folded neatly in a pile. He climbed over the bed to where you were standing and took hold of your hand. “There, your chores are done, now, let’s go DO something!” Not sure if this completely made up for him knocking it all over in the first place, you eyed the archangel carefully.

“Why don’t you go help Sam with his project to translate some of the older texts and digitize the library? You could probably do both of those things with your eyes closed, and maybe it would be a good start to making nice with them.” You felt like a schoolmarm scolding a student, all of a sudden, but Gabe didn’t seem to mind.

Gabe winked and gave you a charming smile as he stood up in front of you that made you try to hide your blush. He was so close you were almost overwhelmed by the sweet smell of cookies and candy. “But I’d rather make nice with you, Lollipop.” As he said it, a lollipop appeared in his hand and he stuck it in his mouth with a grin and another waggle of his eyebrows. His gaze was steady on you as you watched him suck on the treat for a second, then he pulled it out of his mouth and pointed it towards you, offering it to you with a smirk. “Wanna lick?”

The blush that took over your face wouldn’t be denied this time, and your cheeks got so hot you nearly broke out in a sweat. Your eyes had to be saucers for how wide they had gotten, but you tried to keep your breathing under control. Shaking your head quietly, you took a deep breath and tried to calm your nerves.

“Like I said, maybe some other time.”

Gabe studied your face, putting the lollipop back into his mouth with a smug smile. “That isn’t a no. I’ll take it!” He pushed a lock of your hair out of your face, and your blush deepened at his familiarity. “What’s it gonna take to get a yes out of you, Cupcake?”

Your throat felt thick as you tried to swallow. Gabe seemed to be asking you a serious question for once, and you wanted to make sure you gave him a serious answer. “No tricks, Gabe. And keep helping out. Helping is good.” Your voice shook as you spoke, but you barely noticed it because you were lost in Gabe’s whiskey-colored eyes.

His hand dropped from your hair to your arm and he squeezed it gently, rubbing circles into your skin with his thumb as he gazed into your eyes. Before you could feel self-conscious about the serious moment, he picked up his cocky façade again and winked. “Does that mean if I go help Samsquatch with his translating for a while, I might get a reward?” His eyes dropped to your lips as he grinned, making your breath hitch.

Completely unable to produce words, you nodded, still entranced by his eyes.

“Consider it done.” With a snap of his fingers, he disappeared, and you exhaled loudly before collapsing onto your bed. You lay back with your head on your pillow, just enjoying your newfound ability to breathe properly, while you wondered what you had gotten yourself into. Before doubts could invade your mind and make you completely rethink the idea of encouraging Gabe’s attention, a bouquet of lollipops appeared on your nightstand. When you reached for the card, you saw that some of the lollipops were actually condoms glued to lollipop sticks and you couldn’t stop the laugh that accompanied your blush.

You opened the card and sighed with a smile when you read the note inside. “Maybe we can share some of these as part of my reward, though no candy will ever taste as sweet as you.” 


	6. The Benefits of Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Technically it wasn't on fire."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, this one was hard. In the beginning, this was going to be an angel fic, then this idea hit me. I then spent too much time in the pond skype chat banging my head over one part of it or another. Hopefully ya’ll like it, anyway! Check out @one-shots-supernatural for other submissions and requirements to participate in this challenge!

“You blew up my car!”

“It did not blow up, you're exaggerating,” Dean said, rolling his eyes and walking away from you and Sam and into the bunker door.

“It was on fire!”

Stopping so suddenly you and Sam almost ran into his back, he turned around and pointed his finger at you. “Technically, it was not on fire.” 

“Where there's smoke, there's fire, and there was a hell of a lot of smoke, Dean! You yelled at his back as he started going down the stairs.

“That wasn't smoke, that was steam. Big difference.”

You shook your head and growled at the obstinate hunter, stifling the urge to push him down the stairs in your anger. Sometimes he just made you so crazy!!! How could you have ever had a crush on him? He was lucky your sprained knee was slowing you down or you might have already beaten the crap out of him. Fortunately for Dean, Sam holding you up was the only reason you were vertical. 

Your car was the first really nice present anyone had ever given to you. All of your life it had been thrift-store shopping and second-hand presents. This car had still had the new car smell when you got it. A very appreciative old lady had given you her practically brand new car as a thank you for saving her from the vengeful spirit of her deceased husband. You’d tried to refuse it. It was too much for such a simple job, but she insisted. Her kids had bought her a brand new, top-of-the-line, Scion xB just a year before, complete with all the bells and whistles. It had heated seats, an iPod jack, satellite radio, navigation system, AND it got decent gas mileage while still being big enough to seat five non-Winchesters and a load of groceries to satisfy an army of hunters. The old lady hadn’t known what to do with it, so she just left it in her garage and kept driving her old VW bug.

You loved it. Dean refused to touch it, calling it all kinds of names, and told you straight out you’d have to take it to someone else to get it serviced. Considering the car had sensors and an on-board computer so complex it could tell you when your tires needed air, you understood Dean’s reluctance. As far as Dean’s car knowledge was concerned, your car might as well have been a jet plane.

It wasn’t practical to take both your Princess (as Dean had started calling it, and you reluctantly had to agree) and Baby on long-distance hunts, but this hunt had only been a couple of hours away, so you took it. You enjoyed every single minute you got to listen to your own music and chill with the A/C on high while your seat warmer relaxed your back muscles. The car had its downsides, though. It had the worst suspension you’d ever experienced, especially in the winter. And it had almost no ground clearance, so dirt roads were out of the question. Hence, why Dean called it Princess. You didn’t care, though. For supply runs and just running around town, it was perfect.

This hunt, though, had kicked your ass. Well, technically, it kicked your knee, not your ass, but whatever. Worse, it had kicked your  _ right _ knee, which meant no driving for a few days. Sam, much to his chagrin, just couldn’t sit comfortably in the car. He kept hitting his head on the roof. He glared jealously at the electronics while he sighed and climbed back out to get into the Impala. Dean, however, fit in your driver’s seat just fine, but also glared at the electronics. He demanded you turn everything off except the radio, and then called you five minutes after you’d all gotten on the road screaming about you burning his balls and how he’d kill you if he had any trouble “getting it up” in the future because of it. Like you wanted to think about Dean and his endless parade of barmaids and waitresses. They were what had finally killed your crush on him in the end. Anyway, you’d had to ride in the back of Baby with Sam because your leg was too long to stretch out in the back of Princess with your knee messed up. Well, that was your excuse to get away from listening to Dean bitch about your car for the entire trip back to the bunker. Sometimes being alone in a car with him was a guilty pleasure, and other times it just reminded you of how Dean would never see you as anything other than a hunting partner and an annoyance.

A couple of miles from home, though, Sam pulled over the Impala next to your Princess, which was billowing so much smoke you could barely see Dean as he got out and lifted the hood. He’d grumbled at Sam when he looked to see what was going on, and then they’d emptied your car of all of your personal items before getting into the Impala and leaving your car abandoned.

Naturally, you were pissed.

Dean wouldn’t say what had happened to cause a two-year old car with less than 10,000 miles on it to go up in smoke like that, and his lack of an answer made you even more pissed. He’d refused to even speak to you for the rest of the drive home, in spite of you almost yelling at him the whole way. Now that you were back in the bunker, he’d at least started speaking to you, though he still didn’t have a good answer for you.

“Dean, you’ve hated that car since the day I brought it home! It has a lot of benefits your precious Baby doesn’t have, like, oh, I don’t know, decent gas mileage and actual air conditioning, but you just couldn’t see it! And now you’re going to tell me the first time you drive it, it just explodes for no reason??”

“Well, Y/N, maybe if it wasn’t a plastic piece of crap it wouldn’t have exploded for no reason, ya think?” Dean yelled back at you before slamming his bedroom door closed behind him.

You huffed and looked up at Sam, who tried with all his might to look neutral so he wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire. Shaking your head, you let Sam help you get to your bedroom, and flopped down on your bed with a grumpy thank you. Sam left you there to get comfortable, and you settled in for a few days of rest and mourning for your car.

About a week later, your knee was finally good enough for you to stand and shower without too much difficulty. Feeling better than you had in days, you decided to head to the garage and see if you could borrow a car to go on a supply run just to cure your cabin fever. You thought sadly about your Princess, wishing you could have saved her, but without ID to match the papers on the car, getting it towed and fixed just seemed like an insurmountable hurdle, especially while you were injured. Nothing like a beat-up woman trying to do something sketchy to get a car to raise red flags. Maybe you’d drive by where you’d left her, though, just to see if maybe she was still there.

The last thing you expected to see when you entered the garage was your Princess, with Dean under the hood.

“Dean?” you said, just loudly enough to startle the man, making him hit his head on the hood of the car as he stood up quickly to stare at you.

“Oh, hey, Y/N! What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you still be resting that knee?” His eyes were going back and forth between you and your car while he shifted nervously and rubbed the bump on his head.

“It’s not 100%, but it’s good enough to walk on and drive with, so I was going to go on a supply run.” You looked at Dean, taking in the grease-stained shirt stretched over his chest and shoulders, splotches and smears of dirt on his skin, and a wide stripe of grease across his forehead. You loved watching him work on Baby, but something about seeing him work on your car, the car he’d sworn he would never touch, filled you with a warmth you couldn’t define. “What’s going on, Dean? How is my car here? I thought we’d pretty much abandoned it when it exploded.” 

Dean wiped his hands off on a rag and tried to look anywhere but at you. “I wanted to surprise you. I borrowed a tow truck from a friend in town and towed her back here. She’s completely different than Baby, so everything is taking ten times as long, but I think I’ve figured out what’s wrong, and now I’m trying to fix it. Based on all the steam, I think maybe the water pump’s rusted or something from sitting for so long before you got it.” 

Your thoughts swirled as you tried to comprehend what was happening. “I thought you said you’d never work on my car because it was a plastic piece of crap?” He had said that, and you knew he’d meant it, so what he was doing now was confusing you and making you feel things you thought you had put aside years ago. Running your hand over your car lovingly, you tried to make sense of Dean going so far just for you.

“I know I did, but then Sammy pointed out how hard it was gonna be for you to get her serviced, even with his nerd-level hacking skills and fake credit cards. He convinced me that I should learn how to at least do the basics, so I went into town and made friends at the local shop.” He waved at the car while he spoke, looking more at his shoes than at you. “They’ve been teaching me about the computers and everything that are in your car in exchange for me doing some body work and restorations off the books for them.”

Still confused, you wondered how much work Dean had to have done over the past few months just to learn how to maintain your car. “Why would you do that, Dean? I thought you hated new cars.”

“I do hate new cars, Y/N, but this car makes you happy, and you deserve to be happy.” Dean shrugged and turned away from you, organizing the tools he had sitting out.

All kinds of feelings suddenly overwhelmed you. Pulling on his shoulder, you turned him around and threw your arms around his neck, burying your face in his neck and hugging him as tightly as you could. “Thank you so much, Dean,” you said into his shoulder as his arms slowly wrapped around you to return the embrace. You felt a couple of tears leak from your eyes, and tried to wipe them away while you pulled out of Dean’s arms so he wouldn’t see. Dean kept his arms around you, though, holding you loosely so he could see your face. “You don’t know how much this means to me.” Your hands rested on his chest, feeling the heat of him and his heartbeat through his thin t-shirt. His heart was beating fast, and you looked up at him, wondering why.

When your eyes met his, what you saw there surprised and almost frightened you. You dropped your gaze and would have backed away, but he was holding you with one arm around your waist. His other hand moved up and caressed your face, forcing you to look into his eyes again.

The deep green that you had noticed so often was quickly getting darker as his head moved towards yours. Before you could think about it, his lips were on yours. The kiss was soft and gentle to start, but as you felt yourself respond, his tongue met yours and a fire deep in your belly was ignited. When you moaned, he pulled his lips from yours and both of you panted, trying to catch your breath as he trailed kisses to your neck.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his breath fanning over your ear and sending a shiver down your spine.

“More than okay,” you said, almost surprised that it really was. As Dean’s lips roamed your neck, an unpleasant thought made you freeze. “Dean? I don’t want to be one of your one-night girls, so if that’s all you want, we should stop.”

He pulled away just far enough that he could rest his forehead on yours, his eyes still closed. “You are so much more than a one-night stand, Y/N. I’ve wanted you for so long, I don’t even know when it started. It was just always there.” Dean finally opened his eyes and you saw how vulnerable he was letting himself be, just for you.

“I always thought you’d never see me that way,” you whispered, thinking about how you’d packed up your feelings and put them away, making yourself be annoyed by the little things he did that you used to love.

“Only a fool would overlook you.” Dean’s lips met yours again, but this time it was frenzied, all teeth and tongues, grunts and moans, both of you tugging on each other’s hair. He backed you up until you were pressed against the side of your car, his hands cradling your head, his hips pressed into yours, his tongue searching your mouth like he could find the meaning life if he looked hard enough. You felt him hard against your hip, and the thought that he was that aroused because of you sent a rush of heat between your thighs. Dean pulled your shirt off, his hands and lips immediately sliding over your bare skin. He pressed his thigh in between yours, and as you began rutting against him, your knee sent a jolt of pain up your leg and you gasped.

“I think I need to get off my knee, and my car isn’t exactly big enough for what I’ve got in mind.”

Dean lifted his head from your shoulder and smirked at you. “Aha! So maybe my Baby does have some benefits your little Princess doesn’t?”

Rolling your eyes, you pushed him away from you and grabbed your shirt, putting it back on. “We can debate about our cars or we can go somewhere comfortable, like a bed.” Cocking one eyebrow at Dean, you smirked and turned around, walking away from him towards the bunker door. “Coming? Or do you wanna talk shop some more?” you asked, throwing the question over your shoulder.

You smiled as you heard Dean’s boots pounding the cement floors as he rushed to catch up with you.


	7. Kids Say The Darnedest Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Oh my god, you're in love!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to write some Sam this week, since I was bombarded with Sam/Jared everywhere I went while I was trying to write Dean. Check out @one-shots-supernatural for other submissions and requirements to participate in this challenge! Special thanks to @faith-in-dean and the pond chat for talking to me about annoying little boys.

The kid was so annoying you seriously considered letting the witch eat him. You didn’t even like kids when you _were_ a kid, and this kid was enough to make anyone consider permanent birth control.

“Can I play with your gun?”

“Did getting that tattoo hurt?”

“Can I order in pizza?”

“Why can’t I go outside?”

“Don’t you have any real food around here?”

“Why can’t we hide from the witch in a place with a working toilet?”

You had to give it to Sam, he was a saint. He had put up with the kid’s constant barrage of questions, keeping him occupied while you and Dean bought supplies and whipped up some witch-killing brew. Dean was working on filling bullets with the brew, while you were making another batch and filling bottles to make Molotov cocktails with the stuff. If the bullets didn’t work, they should at least slow her down so you could bomb the crap out of her.

Sam had volunteered to play babysitter, since he knew you’d lost your affection for the kid when he’d tried to look up your skirt after you pulled your gun from your thigh holster, asking what else you kept up there. Dean had almost left him on the side of the road when he ripped a hole in Baby’s upholstery, so he was out, too. (To be fair, the hole was already there, just almost invisible until the kid stuck his finger in it and pulled.) You had to give Sam credit, he’d managed to fascinate the kid for a whole ten minutes by explaining how his gun worked while he cleaned it.

Now, Sam and the kid were in the next room, and you had no idea what they were doing. Possibly playing cards, but you weren’t sure. They were just far enough away that you could only hear most of what they were saying.

“Why can’t I see what they’re doing?”

“Because they’re mixing together dangerous stuff and we don’t want you to get sick.”

“I can’t believe you let a girl fight a monster. I thought guys were supposed to save girls from monsters, not the other way around!”

Sam chuckled. “I don’t _let_ Y/N do anything. She does what she wants.”

“And you’re okay with that? If my mom did stuff like this, my dad would be pissed! He got mad when she tried to fix the garbage disposal by herself. He said it was his job to get it fixed, not hers.”

Your back was turned, but you could imagine Sam’s expression. “I’m sure your dad had a good reason to not want your mom to fix the disposal, but I’m perfectly fine with Y/N making witch bombs. She knows what she’s doing, and she’s very good at everything she does.”

Warmth bubbled up in your chest and your cheeks turned pink as you listened to Sam’s praise. Sam saying things like that was not helping your little crush. He always made you feel like you could do anything you set your mind to. You knew he saw you just as a sister, though.

“Maybe Y/N can make witch bombs, but I think my mom’s prettier.”

“Then your mom must be really beautiful, because I think Y/N is plenty pretty.”

Dean tapping on a bullet next to you brought you back to your own task just before you were about to add an extra chicken foot to the batch of brew you were making.

“You’re not wearing a ring, so you’re not married, so does that mean Y/N is your girlfriend?”

Sam sputtered as your hands froze above the bowl of half-made brew in front of you. “Um, no, she’s not my girlfriend. You know, I have a laptop, maybe we can find some cartoons or something for you to watch until they’re done in there.”

Dean tapped your arm and gave you a worried look and you realized the picture you must make, hands still above the bowl of chicken feet, blood, and herbs. Shaking your head to clear it, you tried to ignore the conversation behind you.

“if she’s not your girlfriend, is she Dean’s girlfriend? I can see that. They both get mad really fast. I bet they fight a lot. My dad says sometimes when couples fight a lot, it means they really like each other and it’s really hot. He says I’ll understand that when I’m older.”

Sam’s laptop made a loud _thunk_ sound as he put it on the table and you heard the startup noise as he powered it up.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but she’s not Dean’s girlfriend, either. And they don’t fight a lot and there’s nothing… just… God, there must be something else you could talk about.” You wanted to chuckle at the sound of Sam’s voice since he was obviously getting annoyed by the kid.

“Why is your face all red? Are you mad or something?”

“No, I’m not mad, let’s just stop talking about Y/N and girlfriends and find something online to watch, okay?”

“Holy crap, do you like her?? And I bet she doesn’t like you or she’d be your girlfriend, already. Oh, my God, you’re in _looooooove_ , aren’t you???” The kid’s laughter rang out and echoed through the rooms of the abandoned house you were squatting. “Sam and Y/N, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

Suddenly, the sounds of a scuffle echoed through the house while the kid’s voice got muffled, and then you heard the screen door slam shut with a loud bang. You realized you were frozen again, and you looked at Dean, who was watching you carefully. Your cheeks started burning under his gaze and you wished the floor would just swallow you whole.

“I’m gonna go save the kid before Sammy strangles him, and he can come in here and finish these up.” He stood up, put a hand on your shoulder and dropped a kiss on your head before following the sound of Sam and the kid wrestling outside. You heard the low voices of Sam and Dean for a moment, then the screen door banged, and Sam’s heavy footsteps came up behind you. He carefully took the seat Dean had been in and picked up the tools, getting started on another round of ammo.

Several minutes passed in silence, the two of you each working on your tasks. Finally, you couldn’t stand the tension of not speaking any longer and you took a deep breath.

Without looking at him, you squeaked, “I like you, too.” Staring at the brew in front of you, afraid to look up, you just kept working.

In the corner of your eye, you could see Sam’s hands comically freeze, one hand poised with the small hammer over the top of the bullets in front of him. After a moment, his hands started moving again, tapping the hammer on the top of the bullets.

“You do?”

You finished the last witch bomb and set it in front of you with a sigh. Afraid to look up, you stared at the bomb. “I do. Have for a while.” Your heart pounded. “You?”

Sam tapped on the top of the final bullet and set down his tools. “Practically since the day we met.”

Grinning like a fool, you finally looked up at Sam to see his matching grin. He grabbed your hand and held it for a moment, rubbing circles into your skin with his thumb.

“Whaddya say we gank this witch and then dump Dean and the kid somewhere so we can talk?”

Sam nods and stands up, pulling you up with him. He cups your face with his hands and presses is lips lightly to yours. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he whispers, pulling you into his arms and holding you tightly.


	8. Soundproof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "No, I said we were safer, not safe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I had a fabulous (and informative) idea for this prompt, but then @ellen-reincarnated1967 went and did it her way, which was much better than mine would have been! (And shorter cuz ya’ll know I’m a wordy bitch.) So, it was back to the drawing board for me. Hope you like a little fluffy Sam smut! Check out @one-shots-supernatural for other submissions and requirements to participate in this challenge! (Un-beta'd, so all mistakes are mine!)

You and Sam had been sneaking around, stealing kisses and quick embraces whenever Dean’s back was turned, not quite ready to share what you were doing until, well, you knew what you were doing. It had only been a couple of weeks since that first drunken kiss, and you’d agreed to take things slowly. Not announcing anything to Dean was part of taking things slowly.

Honestly, although you weren’t ready to label it, yet, you were totally ready for the next step. The kisses were getting more heated, hands were straying underneath clothing, and if something didn’t escalate soon, you were going to have buy stock in Energizer. However, when things got hot and heavy, you got loud. By yourself, you had no problem taking care of business quietly, but something about Sam made you very… vocal. Which made sneaking around nearly impossible.

Today, you were deep in the bowels of the bunker, in the shooting range. The shooting range wasn’t exactly soundproof, but it was close to it, in order to keep the noise from the guns from deafening all the bunker’s inhabitants. Sam thought this was a perfect place for the two of you to steal away for a few moments alone. Closing and locking the door behind you, you had to agree.

Sam pushed you against the ledge, kissing you roughly, his tongue invading your mouth like he was starved for your taste. Your hands were in his hair, tugging and pulling, then roaming his back, your nails digging into his shirts, trying to feel the muscles there. You had to let him go when he started to pull off your shirt, but when his mouth found the skin in the valley of your breasts, you forgave him for the temporary loss of his heat against you.

“I know we said we weren’t ready for sex, yet, but fuck, if I don’t taste you soon, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind, Y/N,” Sam said, moaning the words into your skin. He picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, then setting you on the ledge, pressing the hard line of his cock into your core. The moan you let out was loud and uninhibited, knowing Dean couldn’t possibly hear you in here, and Sam rocked against you again. “God, I love the noises you make, baby girl. I could come just listening to you.”

Although his previous plan seemed to have been making you come on his tongue, he suddenly shifted gears and just kept rocking his hips into yours. The pressure of him rocking against your clit and the feel of his lips on your skin, mixed with his hand pulling your breast out of your bra and tweaking your nipple made your breath hitch and your voice go hoarse. “Sam, you’re gonna make me come, it’s so good, Sam!”

“Come on, baby, give it to me, I wanna hear what you sound like when I make you come,” Sam growled into your ear, the rocking of his hips getting harder and faster.

Just when you were about to explode, Sam cursed loudly and stopped everything he was doing. The cry of frustration you let out would have been loud if Sam hadn’t covered your mouth with his hand. He quickly grabbed your shirt, jumped over the ledge onto the other side, then pulled you over the ledge with him. He crouched down, pulling you down with him, holding you closely to both him and the wall. You opened your mouth, but Sam put his hand over it and shook his head, and suddenly you understood why.

The lock on the door clicked, the door creaked open, and you heard Dean muttering under his breath. “Who the fuck locked that door? It’s not like we’ve got anything in here worth stealing.”

Your eyes opened wide as you realized that Dean would have caught you if Sam hadn’t heard Dean trying the door. Looking at Sam, you saw his eyes focused on your chest, and realized that your breast was still hanging out of your bra and he had your shirt in his hand. You made a face at Sam while you put your boob away and listened intently to the noises Dean was making, trying to figure out what he was doing.

 _BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!_ The sound of Dean’s gun in the enclosed space made you cover your ears and duck your head. Spent shell casings rained down around you, and you hoped none of them hit you or Sam, since shell casings could be hot when they first get ejected. Dean stopped shooting, and you opened your eyes and uncovered your ears for a moment to try and figure out if he was done or just resting. Sam motioned for you to cover your ears again, but you saw him tapping a message into his phone. Dean shot at the target a couple more times, then stopped, and you heard him set the gun down on the ledge.

“Dammit, Sam,” Dean muttered, then cleaned up his area before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

You waited for a moment to make sure he didn’t come back, then stood up and grabbed your shirt from Sam. “Geez, Sam, I thought you said we’d be safe here!”

Sam blushed as he watched you get redressed and ran a hand through his hair. “No, I said we’d be safer, not safe. There’s nowhere safe while Dean’s around.”

Once you had your clothes straightened out again, you looked at Sam, who didn’t seem to mind looking thoroughly disheveled. He was even still hard, if the way he was trying to adjust his jeans meant anything. The ache between your legs returned with a vengeance when you realized his eyes were devouring you as you stood there.

“What did you tell him to get him out of here, anyway?” you asked, moving closer to him and wrapping your arms around his waist.

“I told him I was in town and the car wouldn’t start and I couldn’t figure out why. It should keep him busy for about twenty minutes or so,” Sam said with a smirk as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you tight against him. He dipped his head so he could nuzzle your neck and a shiver went down your back.

“If he’s going to be out of the bunker for twenty minutes, I say we take this to someplace more comfortable, since we won’t have to be quiet.” Sliding your hand down his chest to below his belt, you gripped the bulge and pressed against it, making Sam give out a loud groan.

Sam picked you up and threw you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing, giving your ass a smack as he carried you out of the room. “Sounds good to me. I can’t wait to hear you scream, baby girl.”


	9. Trifling Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “I was being sarcastic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out @one-shots-supernatural for other submissions and requirements to participate in this challenge! (Un-beta'd, so all mistakes are mine!)

“Well, fuck me running.”

“Y/N? Something wrong, or is that a request?” Sam joked, giving you a wink that would melt the knees of most women, and probably a few men.

You laughed, giving him a wide grin and joked right back, using the most bored voice you could muster. “Yes, Sam, kiss me, take me, make me yours. Please please please.”

“Hey! I’m right here!” your boyfriend said indignantly as he grabbed another round of beers from the frig.

“Dean, I was being sarcastic.”

Dean turned around to face you and smiled. “I know. Just sayin’, if you’re going to proposition my little brother, at least wait until I’m out of the room.” He leaned over you and dropped a quick kiss on your lips before settling back down on the other side of the table from Sam.

All three of you chuckled and shook your heads. Sam moved closer to where you were sitting and looked over your shoulder to see what you had found in your research that had started the whole conversation. You forgot the entire exchange as soon as it was over, but apparently not everyone in the room blew it off like you did.

That night, Dean told you that he’d be willing to share you with his brother, if it was something you wanted. Apparently, Sam had shown an interest in you when they’d first met you, but had accepted it when you got together with Dean. After a long conversation where Dean reassured you that nothing would change between you and him, you agreed to think about it.

You’d never thought about Sam that way, but the more that you did, the more you wondered how you’d managed to overlook him. The next day, all day, you watched Sam. You watched his behavior around you; you watched his muscles move under his shirt; you watched his hair blow in the breeze from the open windows of the Impala; you watched his long fingers as he turned the pages of a book or typed on his laptop. The more you observed him, the more you felt the itch to touch him, and the more you wondered what he’d be like. Would Sam be gentle in bed, or would he want to fuck you hard? Would he want to call the shots, or would he bow to your every whim? Would he feast between your thighs for days like Dean liked to do, or would he prefer to spend his time sucking on your nipples? Would he be straightforward about wanting to make you feel good like Dean was, or would he want to play games? The possibilities were endless.

After dinner, while you and Dean cleaned up, you told Dean that you were up for it if everyone else was. The two of you discussed how you would approach Sam, and once the plan was made, you headed to Sam’s room.

You knocked on the door, opening it when you heard him call out. He was sitting on his bed, his long legs stretched out, reading a book, which he put aside when you came in. As you entered and shut the door behind you, Sam's phone dinged with a text message. He reached for his phone instinctively, but didn't look at it because he was focused on you.

“You need to read that message, Sam, then we need to talk,” you said, walking slowly towards him on the bed. You knew what the message said because you and Dean had worked together to word it carefully. _Y/N is coming to talk to you. I know all about it, and I’m okay with everything. The ball’s in your court._ As he read the message, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, his brow furrowed as his eyes scanned the words over and over again. He finally looked up at you with confusion in his eyes, and that’s when you got close enough to touch.

Standing in front of him so he had to look up at you, you got close enough that his knees were in between yours and brushed a lock of hair out of his face. His eyes searched your face as he tried to figure out what was happening. As you openly admired him, really taking him in for the first time, his cheeks turned pink from your scrutiny.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me you wanted me, Sam?”

The pink tinge in Sam’s cheeks turned into a wild blush as his mouth opened and closed. He stuttered for a moment, avoiding your eyes, then got quiet, and you saw the gears in his mind working. Your hands couldn’t get enough of his hair, now that you had permission to touch it, and you stepped closer to him so you could tangle your fingers in it while he considered his response.

Sam’s throat worked as he swallowed his uncertainty. “You picked Dean. The two of you were happy. I didn’t want to get in the way of that.” His eyes searched your face for answers. “Did you and Dean have a fight or something?”

You saw him trying to put up walls inside his own head to protect himself from whatever pain might come with your answer. You just kept stroking his hair, your legs now pressed against the bed on either side of his, your thumbs caressing his cheeks with every pass your hands made.

“No, Sam. Dean and I are okay. Dean just suggested that maybe you and I would like to see if there’s something more between us.” Sam’s eyes widened, and his hands, which he had kept laying on the bed next to his legs, twitched. “Dean suggested that you might want to, well, share me.” Sam’s hands twitched again, and the little muscle in his jaw jumped as he worked to control his features. “And after some thought, I agreed to see if you might be interested in that.”

You caressed his face again, using your thumb to wipe away the furrow from his brow, then felt the stubble on his cheek before tracing the line of his bottom lip. Your breath hitched as you imagined leaving a trail of kisses where your thumb had just been, and Sam noticed. His breathing was not exactly even, either, in spite of how he was trying to control his every instinct. Finally satisfied with your inspection of his face, you looked him in the eyes again.

“Would you be interested in sharing me with your brother, Sam?” Heat radiated from his body, seeping into you since you were so close, even though your bodies weren’t touching. His eyes darkened as he considered your question.

Sam’s voice was rough when he finally spoke. “You want me, Y/N?”

You moved so you were sitting in his lap, straddling his thighs, your arms still wrapped around his neck. His hands went to your hips and squeezed as you spoke. “Yeah, Sam. I do. I never let myself look before, but now that I have… yeah. I do want you, Sam. I realize that what we’re talking about is unusual, and it wouldn’t be easy, but if you’re up for it, then I want to try. If you’re not, no hard feelings, and I’ll go back to Dean’s bed and we never need to talk about this again.”

Sam’s large hands were around you and his lips were on yours so quickly you doubted you would have seen him move had you been outside your little tableau. His kiss was desperate and needy, his tongue pushing into your mouth and ravaging you until you were breathless. Your mind reeled as he pulled your shirt over your head and sent your bra flying across the room. His hands seemed to be everywhere, but maybe that was just because they were so big, they seemed to engulf you. He grabbed you by the hips and pulled you closer until you could feel the hard length trapped by his jeans pressing against your core. One hand then stayed behind your back to support you while the other kneaded your breast and his mouth landed on your nipple.

He sucked and nibbled and teased first one nipple, then the other, going back and forth until you were squirming and moaning and begging for more. You tried to push off his top shirt without any luck, then finally pulled his head up from your chest to get him to look you in the eye.

“Sam, clothing off, now!” you growled, and he answered you with a smile. He lifted you easily, laying you down on the bed beside him, then stood and stripped. Although he didn’t take his time, you knew he was putting on a show for you, so you stayed still and watched as miles of toned, tan skin were revealed. His muscles rippled as he discarded both of his shirts and then worked on his pants. When he was done, he was standing in front of you, naked and proud, his erection bobbing heavily in front of him. You were allowed one moment to stare before his hands landed on your jeans while you kicked off your shoes. With one swift pull your jeans and panties were removed and sent flying after the rest of the clothing.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N. Never thought I’d get to see you like this.” Sam took just one moment to look at you in your entirety, then kneeled between your thighs and held himself over you as he kissed you again. You reached to take him in your hand, but he pushed your hand away. “I’ve wanted you for too long, little girl. Touch me like that and this will all be over too soon.”

With a groan, you moved your hands back to his hair, tangling your fingers in the locks and tugging until he let out an almost feral sound and kissed you again. One of his hands reached between you and found your center, tracing your folds until he pushed one finger into you.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so wet. Is this all for me?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you because his face was now buried in your chest between your breasts, the stubble on his chin scratching your delicate skin. “Yeah, Sam. Been watching you and thinking about you all day. Wondering what you’d look like under all those layers, what you’d feel like, what you’d taste like, thinking about how you’d take me, how you’d fuck me.”

Sam groaned into your skin as he added another finger inside of you and started pumping in and out, scissoring them to stretch you. “You’re gonna kill me, baby. Later, we’ll do everything you want to do, but right now, I just need to be inside you.”

He reared up over you again, completely surrounding you in warmth and muscles. His lips attacked your neck, licking and sucking while you moaned and writhed beneath him. His thumb found your clit while he added a third finger, and a string of curses and begging left your mouth as you felt yourself begin to wind up.

“Please, Sam, don’t stop, I’m so close.”

Sam growled, then removed his hand from between your thighs, making you whine in protest. Before you could say anything, though, he lined up his cock and slid into you, slowly but easily. When he was finally fully seated, you both moaned, and he kissed you tenderly while he waited for you to adjust.

He littered kisses from your mouth to your neck before taking your earlobe in his teeth and tugging on it. “You feel so damn good, baby. Even better than I imagined, and I imagined so much.”

You bucked against him while you dug your fingernails into his back, needing to feel more of him. “Move, Sam, please.”

He finally moved, starting out slow, but building up his pace until he was slamming into you hard and fast. You didn’t last long, your orgasm cresting quickly. Sam cried out when he felt you clamp down on his cock, milking him for all he’s worth, and his release followed soon after yours. He continued thrusting into you, drawing out your aftershocks, until he started to soften. He dropped his head to your shoulder, holding himself up on his elbows, his sweat dripping down onto your skin. You both whined when he pulled out, but it was replaced by a hum of sated happiness when he pulled you into his arms. Your head rested on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as it settles.

Just as you thought you might fall asleep, you lifted your head and peered at Sam. “So, I guess that’s a yes?” you asked with a smile, “because you didn’t actually answer me, you know.”

Sam opened his eyes and looked at you with a huge grin. “Yeah, that’s a yes.”


	10. I Need More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Is this one of those times where you want me to lie to protect your delicate emotions?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out @one-shots-supernatural for other submissions and requirements to participate in this challenge! (Un-beta'd, so all mistakes are mine!)

You woke up cold and naked under just a thin, scratchy motel sheet. Your back ached a little from the hunt the day before, along with a myriad of bruises. Part of the cold was from the air coming down from the ceiling fan. The A/C was broken, and you’d turned on the fan two days before trying to get cool. Sam had bitched as his research went flying in the breeze, but you hadn’t cared. Now, you were cold, since the heat wave had broken the day before. As you shifted to get up and turn it off, you found more aches, but they were the good kind. They were the aches caused by Dean Winchester.

The Winchesters met you interviewing witnesses on a case so many years ago, you couldn’t remember. Dean’s eyes had captivated you before he’d even had a chance to introduce himself, and when you finally got your act together, you saw how Sam rolled his eyes. Dean flirted with you outrageously, and Sam just sighed and shook his head like Dean did this all the time. The signs all said to keep away, so you did. Every time you ran into the brothers, you kept away from Dean. Sam became a good friend, and the two of you spent many nights drinking and chatting in bars while Dean made conquest after conquest.

Sam had once asked you why you never flirted back when Dean would so obviously proposition you. He could tell you had feelings for his brother, and he knew his brother wanted you, so why didn’t you go for it?

“I’m not a notch in someone’s belt, Sam. I’m not a conquest he can add to his list of kinky fucks in one-horse towns. If he wants me, he’s got to want all of me, not just what he can use and throw away. I need more.” Your eyes locked onto Sam’s and he nodded.

Years passed, the brothers got the bunker, and they invited you to stay. You would visit, but nothing more. Sam was hurt. He didn’t understand why you couldn’t just use the bunker as a home base. Even if you didn’t go on hunts with them, at least you’d be safe.

“Sam, it’s too much. I can’t just be friends with benefits, and if I’m around all the time, that’s what would happen. I’d eventually give in, he’d hurt me the next time he picked up a bar skank, and then I’d lose both of you. Believe me, it’s better if I don’t stay.”

“Y/N, promise you’ll come here if you ever need a break. Don’t stay away when you need help out of stubbornness, okay?” Sam grabbed your hand and begged you using his fiercest set of puppy eyes.

“If I ever need to heal up or something, you got it. I’ll be here.”

Sam put his arms around you and kissed your temple, whispering his thanks into your hair. The arrangement worked out well for you. You did have to stay in the bunker a couple of times after particularly rough hunts, but other than that, you lived your life and they lived theirs. Occasionally, there were hunts you worked together, but you kept your distance from Dean and his flirty looks.

This hunt, though, was bad. Sam had gotten knocked out by a serious blow to the head, and wouldn’t wake up. Dean had driven like his ass was on fire to get Sam to the nearest hospital, and you had spent hours waiting to hear that he was okay. Sitting on uncomfortable chairs in the emergency room, you had held Dean’s hand while your eyes searched the faces of every passing doctor or nurse for news. After a while, Dean had jumped up and started pacing, then kicking at chairs in the room. Wanting to stop him before he hurt himself or someone else, you got up and threw your arms around him. He melted into your arms, accepting comfort from you without his usual macho bravado. When he finally let go, he suddenly looked at you with alarm.

“God, Y/N, you got tossed around, too. Are you okay?” His hands suddenly moved over your shoulders and down your arms, inspecting you as you stood, leaning slightly to the left because of some aches in your back.

“I’m fine, Dean. Nothing a few days off and a decent bed won’t fix.”

He searched your eyes for signs you were lying, and when he found none, he crushed you in his arms. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you or Sam. You two are everything to me.”

Being so close to Dean, hearing his words and feeling his body pressed against yours, you warmed up quickly. This was almost everything you’d ever wanted from Dean. You needed to get away.

The doctor interrupted just in time, letting you both know that Sam was fine, and had regained consciousness. All his tests were clear, but they wanted to watch him overnight to be sure. He led you both to Sam’s room, and you got to see him with your own eyes. He was going to be okay.

The drive back to the motel was quiet. You were already mentally packing your bag to run away, not even noticing that Dean wasn’t blaring his music because you were so focused on how you just needed to leave. He’d gotten too close this time, and you needed to get away and clear your head and remind yourself that Dean could only hurt you.

The motel door slammed shut, and Dean grabbed your arm, spinning you around until your back was to the door and he was pressed against your front. One second you were considering how many hours you could drive before you’d need either gas or a bathroom, and the next second Dean was kissing you. His lips were on yours, hard and unyielding as he overwhelmed you with his tongue thrusting into your mouth. The little part of your brain that wanted to fight was quickly drowned out by the rest of you as Dean pressed his thigh between your legs, putting pressure on your clit through your jeans. His hand roughly kneaded your breast through your clothes while his tongue… fuck, his tongue… you never stood a chance.

By the time he finally came up for air, you were winding up to come while he was rutting his rock hard cock into your hip. It was wild and breathless, both of you panting and moaning, curses flying. Dean’s lips latched onto your neck and as he sucked a bruise in that spot that made you crazy, you surprised both of you by coming hard and fast.

“Fuck, yes, Dean!” Your body locked up in pleasure as he rocked against you. When you started to come down, Dean’s hold relaxed a little. Opening your eyes, you saw nothing but dark green as he stared at you.

“Did you just…?” His voice sounded as wrecked as you felt.

Unable to speak, you simply nodded, feeling your cheeks flood with heat.

Dean closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against yours. “Fuck, you’re even better than I thought.” His lips were on yours again, but his arms pulled you from the door and soon you were laid out on the bed, Dean over top of you. “I need you so bad, Y/N,” Dean said, pressing the words into your skin as he littered kisses along your neck. “I’ve needed you for so long, you have no idea.”

You never got a chance to question his words, because your clothes were removed in a flurry, followed by his, and his mouth was between your legs. Two fingers inside of you and his lips sucking on your clit brought on your second orgasm so fast your head was spinning. Before your aftershocks were finished, he had the condom in place and was pushing into you slowly with a deep groan that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Dean, fuck,” was all you could say as your body reacted to the welcome intrusion. It was better than you’d ever imagined, and you had taken plenty of chances to imagine over the years. Neither of you lasted long after he started to move, building up an almost frantic pace as you raced each other to the finish line. One swipe of his thumb over your clit set off another orgasm, and you clamping down on him set off his. He came with a shout of your name while you panted and moaned.

You nearly passed out from the exhaustion of the hunt, the stress of the hospital, and three mind-blowing orgasms. Dean got you both cleaned up, and no sooner was your head nestled into his shoulder than you were out like a light.

And now you were awake, alone.

Dammit.

The bed was cold, so Dean had left a long time ago. Looking around the room, you saw no note, no bag, no sign of Dean at all. Tears welled up in your eyes as you fully realized that you were just another outlet for stress relief for Dean, after all. Everything you had tried to keep from happening all these years had just happened, anyway, and you were screwed.

You didn’t stop to comb your hair or brush your teeth or even pee. You needed to get out of there. Throwing on your clothes from the day before, you got dressed in record time, tossing your meager belongings into your bag as you went. You weren’t sure why you were rushing, since Dean obviously wasn’t coming back, but you ran like demons were after you, anyway.

Your bag was in the back seat of your car and you were opening the front door when you heard the Impala pull in beside you. Dean’s voice stopped you in your tracks as he said your name.

“Y/N?” He got out of the car and stood, looking at you over the roof of his Baby. “What, was last night so bad you have to leave without saying goodbye?” he joked. You didn’t want to look at him, because you knew if you did, you’d break, but you had to.

Steeling yourself for the onslaught of his eyes, you turned to him with what you hoped was a playful smile. “Um, is this one of those times where you want me to lie to protect your delicate emotions?”

Dean’s face fell just a fraction, and part of you was glad you could make him feel just a little bit like the way he was making you feel.

“No worries, Dean. I’ve just got a hunt two states over that needs me ASAP,” you lied. “Garth called, so I’ve got to go.” Turning away, you got into your car and shut the door. The car started easily, probably because of all of the work Dean had put into her for you over the years. The thought that you’d have to find a new mechanic sent a bolt of pain through your heart and you fought the tears again. You managed to screw your face into something like a smile and wave at Dean as you pulled out of the parking lot and got onto the road. You didn’t stop until the car was almost running on fumes, and then you only gassed up and kept going until the tears blurred the road too much to keep driving.

Two hours after you peeled out of the motel parking lot, a maid opened the door to your room and gasped. The room was completely trashed. Lamps were broken, the mattress was flipped, two legs on the table were splintered, and the TV was lying face down on the floor a good ten feet from where it usually sat. Sitting on the nightstand, one of the pieces of furniture that was actually nailed to the floor and therefore not tossed or broken, was a couple hundred dollars in cash and note that just said, “Sorry.”

The maid tutted as she pocketed the cash and began cleaning up broken glass and debris. After a half hour of solid cleaning, she finally made it into the bathroom, which had thankfully been left untouched. On the sink was a note.

_Y/N,_

_Went to go check on Sam. Didn’t want to wake you because you looked so beautiful and peaceful. I’ll be back with breakfast soon._

_I know you always said living in the bunker wasn’t for you, but I’m gonna ask you again, and I hope you say yes this time. I need you in my life, and not just as a part-time friend. Please think about it and we can talk when I get back._

_Dean_


	11. A Bump in the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Shut up, that was one time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is also my submission for the FanGirl Get Well Project for @spnjensenlove02 on tumblr, aka KK, who is going through a rough time right now. This is personalized for her, so the reader is named, but it is still written in the reader-insert style. If you have a chronic illness, or have had a long recovery from a physical injury or condition, this may be triggering. I hope not, but figured I should put that out there. This is un-beta'd, so all mistakes are mine.

Shifting in your bed, you tried to stretch out your stiff limbs and alleviate the itch you felt underneath your skin. The itch wasn’t really there, it was in your soul, a result of having spent so many weeks sitting in beds already. The banshee hunt had brought Sam a new friend in Eileen, but had left you with a traumatic brain injury, which had led to a stroke, which had taken away your speech and parts of your right side, including your right arm and hand.

Weeks of intensive therapy had returned feeling and movement to most of the rest of your body, as well as your speech, though you spoke slowly and with an occasional stutter. The doctors had finally released you to go home, provided you used a mobility aid at all times. They also gave you a packed schedule of physical, occupational, and speech therapy ahead of you, all of which pissed you off and frustrated you. You wanted to move again, to walk across a room without a walker or a cane, to tell Dean you loved him without a stutter or pause, but your body just wouldn’t always cooperate.

It was great to be back in your own bed, the one you shared with Dean that smelled like him, but it was still a bed and you wanted out. As you tried to reposition yourself, you forgot about your right arm being useless, and fell over onto the bed on top of your dead arm with a grunt. Twisted a bit uncomfortably, you lay there for a minute, heaved a sigh of frustration, and let your mind worry. Dean had been so wonderful throughout all of this, but he was a man of action. How long could he stand having a girlfriend who needed help doing basic things like bathing and dressing? You had to get yourself back before Dean realized you were holding him back from living his life and left you. It sure would be nice if Cas would answer his fucking phone, or maybe one of the million or so prayers you had sent up.

Grunting with the effort, you tried to sit yourself back up without using your dead arm. Pushing with your left arm didn’t get you very far, so you slowly managed to straighten yourself out so you could sit up again. When you were finally sitting up again, you were now turned ninety degrees from your original position, facing the fucking wall instead of the TV at the foot of the bed, your breath coming hard from the exertion. Frustration filled you and you let out a primal scream that echoed through the bunker hallways.

The sound of boots stomping down the hall preceded Dean arriving in the doorway with a panicked expression on his face. When he saw you sitting up, but turned toward nothing other than the empty wall, he circled around the bed to squat in front of you and look up into your face.

“What happened, KK? Are you all right? Are you in pain?” His eyes scanned your face while his hands checked over your body for injuries.

You shook your head. “F-Fine.” Your face scrunched up as you fought with your brain to make the words you wanted. “Just wanted to… sh-shift… p-position, fell over, and had to get b-back up. But now I’m here, not th-there.” Making a fist with your working left hand, you pounded it against your head. “Just f-frustrated. N-Nothing’s easy.”

Tears leaked from your eyes, and Dean cupped your face in his hands, brushing them away with his thumbs. “Hey, hey, this is just temporary, sweetheart. You’re getting better every day, and soon you’ll be back to kicking my ass like you did the day we met.” A smile started to form on your face, but the tears were still falling. You’d met the Winchesters on a hunt, and mistook Dean for a werewolf. If it weren’t for the silver ring he wore flashing in the moonlight, he’d be dead.

You took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “How long?” Your mouth worked as you reached for the words you wanted, but couldn’t find them.

Not understanding, Dean tried to reassure you. “I don’t know, sweetheart, but I know you can do it.”

Shaking your head, you closed your eyes and swallowed your frustration. “No, D-Dean. How long can you w-wait?” Dean squinted his eyes as he shook his head, not understanding what you mean. “I can’t hunt… I can’t f-fuck… I can’t fucking talk, or, or, or, pee without h-help. How long b-before you… leave?”

Sobs wracked your body as you imagined what you would have to do if Dean left you. There was no one else who could take care of you the way Dean was taking care of you.

Dean got up from his squat, then picked you up and sat down, cradling you in his lap. His arms were strong around you as he pulled you into his shoulder and stroked your hair while he shushed you. “I’m not going to leave you, KK. This is not a deal-breaker. This is just a bump in the road, sweetheart, and we’re gonna get through this like we’ve gotten through everything else.” He kissed your head and rocked you while you pressed your face into his neck and let your tears fall. He surrounded you in his solid warmth, and his voice gently telling you it would all be okay helped calm your tears. When your sobs were reduced to just an occasional hiccup, he tugged on your chin until you were looking into his eyes.

“I hate to tell you this, sweetheart, but you’re stuck with me. There hasn’t been anyone but you since the day we met, and there’s nothing you can do to get rid of me.” When he saw belief, acceptance, and relief shine in your eyes, he smirked. “Besides, if I was going to leave you, I think it would have been when you kept calling me Sam that first day.”

A giggle forced its way up your throat, through all the intense emotions you were trying to swallow. When you had first woken up, your language circuits had been crossed for a few hours, and everyone you talked to was “Dean,” except Dean, who you kept calling Sam.

Smacking his arm with your good hand, you smiled through your tears. “Sh-shut up, that was one t-time.”

Dean grinned at you. “Hey, if that was your way of telling me you picked the wrong brother, you’re out of luck, because you’ll never shake me, princess.”

Dean’s lips pressed against yours gently, kissing you to show you in actions what he could never say in words. When he felt you respond and take the kiss deeper, he laid you out on the bed and settled in next to you with a smirk. “You know, your doctor said all your tests looked good and your physical assessments were promising, so you could do anything you wanted, as long it didn’t hurt and you didn’t overdo it.” His hand moved from your hip up underneath your shirt until he was cupping your breast through your bra, sending a thrill through your body. “What do you say we do a little assessment of our own and see if I can’t make you feel good without you overdoing it?”

Looking up at Dean, you thanked whatever force brought Dean into your life and pressed your good hand over top of his. “I th-think I’m up… for that,” you said with a smile.


	12. First Impression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "You're one insult away from starting a war."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so late that it doesn't count, but I fought with it, so I couldn't just throw it away (though I still don't like it).

From the first moment you met him, you had Dean Winchester pegged. He was a ladies’ man, a womanizer, a gigolo, a slut. No matter what name you used, it all boiled down to the same thing: he was only looking for a good time, no strings attached, and didn’t know how to live without it. Perhaps other women had thought the same over the years, but it was obvious that not many had told him. You had no filter, though, especially after a few beers, so Dean heard about it from you. It didn’t bother you, it was just a fact of life. The sun rises in the east, rainbows only happen in the afternoon, and Dean Winchester needed to get laid by a random woman at least a couple of times a week.

“What are you still doing here, Dean? I thought you would have found yourself a bottle blonde with bodacious boobs by now and left Sam and me to walk home.” With a concerned frown, you plunked down the beers you had gotten for yourself and Sam and slid into the booth across from the brothers.

“I don’t hook up every night, Y/N, and you know it,” Dean groused, getting up to go get a beer of his own since you hadn’t brought one back for him.

Shrugging, you raised your beer to Sam and took a swig, looking out over the bar patrons and trying to decide if any of them were more attractive than your vibrator. It had been a damn long time since you’d met anyone that interested you both physically and mentally, and you were starting to have deep conversations about life and love with something that required batteries. After a moment, you felt Sam’s eyes on you. Turning back towards him, you met his stare with wide eyes.

“What? Do I have spinach in my teeth or monster guts on my face?”

Sam shook his head slowly, his eyes taking in everything about you like you were a puzzle he was trying to solve. “No spinach, no monster guts. Just wondering why you’re always getting on Dean’s case about his sex life, that’s all.”

You sat up straighter, giving Sam your best suspicious side eye. “I wouldn’t say I get on his case about it, but I certainly don’t sugar coat it. Why? What’s it to you?”

Sam shrugged, still watching you as he took a drink of his beer. “He’s my brother and you’re my friend. We hunt together. We need to get along, and I’m pretty sure you’re one insult away from starting a war.”

Shock and disbelief rocked you. Insults? You never thought of what you said as insulting, just truthful. “A war? You mean to tell me I’m hurting Dean’s precious little feelings when I talk about his conquests? I mean, I know I have a big mouth, and whatever the opposite of tact is, my picture’s in the dictionary behind it, but I never meant anything maliciously.” Suddenly, you found yourself questioning everything you’d ever said to the older Winchester since you met him a couple of months before, then wondering why Dean would be hurt by anything you’d said.

“That’s just it, Y/N. You mean everything you say, which means you believe everything you say. The problem is that what you believe isn’t always the case. Especially when it comes to Dean.”

Your eyes were glued to Sam, trying to take in everything he was saying, when Dean returned to the table with more beers for all three of you. The rest of the evening was quiet on your part, your brain working in overdrive to re-evaluate Dean Winchester. You reviewed every night at every bar since the day you’d met him, looking for the chinks you’d obviously missed in the armor you’d seen that first day.

You’d met on a rougarou hunt, and gotten your ass handed to you on a plate right after the rougarou had taken a bite out of it, figuratively speaking. It wasn’t the worst beating you’d ever taken, but you’d had some bruised ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and a lot of other bruises and scratches. The Winchesters had come in right behind you and saved you, taking out the monster before he literally took a bite out of you.

After resetting your shoulder and wrapping up your ribs, the brothers had invited you out to the bar for a congratulatory beer. You were finishing your first beer when Dean left the table to go hit on a cheerleader type. They were out the door before you’d finished your second beer, and that’s when you’d pegged him. Part of you was hurt he’d passed you by, but the logical part of you had looked at yourself in the mirror that night and agreed with Dean. Even if you were his type, you were in no shape. So, you’d brushed it off.

The next day, they offered to let you stay with them in their batcave while you recovered. You never left.

The boys went on a hunt without you the day after you arrived, leaving you alone to read through books of lore on subjects you’d never imagined were possible. By the time they came back, you were healed up, and they showed you their local haunt. That night, you ended up inadvertently playing wingman for Dean, talking him up to a leggy redhead who’d called you a lucky girl for being with him. She was more than pleased to find out you weren’t, and asked if you’d introduce her. You weren’t surprised when she and Dean disappeared a short while later. That seemed to set the tone for your hunting life with the Winchesters. Half the time you were teasing Dean about his wanton ways, the other half you spent being his wingwoman for women who approached you to ask about him.

Part of you was hurt that Dean had never even looked at you twice, but a bigger part of you was glad. You liked hunting with Dean, he was a good friend, but you really didn’t like his womanizing ways. Not every man needed to go off as often as he did. Sam sure didn’t. He’d only disappeared with one girl in the whole time you’d known him. Not to mention, the way Dean didn’t need any kind of emotional connection just baffled you and turned you off. Yes, he was attractive, but you didn’t want to be with someone who was so easy with his affections. You didn’t want to be just another notch on his bedpost.

Now, Sam was telling you that you were wrong. Maybe you needed to take another look at Dean?

For the rest of the night, you kept your mouth closed and your eyes open. You were surprised when Dean drove you all back to the bunker after sobering up hustling pool with some mouthy college boys. During your next hunt, you continued to keep your mouth shut. When a busty brunette came up to you to talk about Dean, you simply said he was your friend, but left it at that. Trying not to look suspicious, you watched Dean out of the corner of your eye as the brunette approached him. No one was more shocked than you when he turned her down.

It was two hunts later when Dean finally took someone home from the bar. You didn’t blame him one bit. The hunt had gone so badly, that you and Sam stayed in with a bottle of whiskey, you tucked under Sam’s arm while your backs rested against the headboard on the bed. Nothing hit you worse than when children were involved, and you decided to drown your sorrows. Dean couldn’t stand being cooped up like that, so he grabbed his jacket and left. Sam always knew how to make you feel better, and you depended on his warmth to comfort you. He hung out in your room, the two of you watching whatever was on TV, not caring what it was because you weren’t really watching. You fell asleep in his arms after you broke down and cried for the little girl who died.

The next morning, you woke up before Sam, probably because of the headache pounding against your skull. You drank a bottle of water with a handful of pain relievers and took a hot shower that loosened up all of your muscles. Feeling more human, you got dressed and snuck out of the room, leaving Sam to sleep it off. Grabbing breakfast at the diner next door, you sat on a picnic table outside your motel room door and slowly nibbled on a sausage and cheese omelet while sipping coffee.

You heard the door around the corner open, but didn’t think anything of it until you heard Dean’s deep chuckle to something the woman with him had said. Suddenly, you were eavesdropping, even though you knew it was wrong. You should leave, you should clear your throat, you should do _something_ to let them know you were there, but you didn’t.

“Hey, Dean?” you heard the woman say after what sounded like lips smacking.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Thank you. Seriously. For everything.”

“It was _literally_ my pleasure; you know?” You could hear Dean’s smug-ass smirk from around the corner.

The woman laughed. “Although that was great, too, that’s not what I was talking about, Dean!” There was a pause, and you strained to hear anything besides the traffic from the road. “I mean, thanks for saving me from spending the night in my car by the side of the road. Thanks for fixing my car. Thanks for listening to me bitch about my kid and my ex, and actually giving me some good advice about both.” The woman chuckled while you tried to take in everything she was saying. “The sex was just the icing on the cake. I mean, obviously…what was the final count, four? So, it was obviously quadruple chocolate fudge icing, but still…icing.” Silence fell; even the cars on the road seemed to have stopped to listen. “You sure you can’t stick around a while, Dean? I could make it worth your while.”

Little moans floated in the air while you waited to hear Dean’s response. “As attractive as you make that sound, sweetheart, I can’t stay. My brother and our partner are probably wondering where I am, already.”

More kissing noises. “Damn. Well, if you’re ever back in town, look me up. I’ll drop everything, I promise.”

“You got it, sweetheart.” A few more kissing noises, and you saw the woman’s back as she walked to her car. The motel door closed with a click and you relaxed, allowing yourself to breathe normally, again. You watched her find her keys and get into her car with interest. Instead of a short skirt and high heels, she was wearing jeans and sneakers. Her hair wasn’t teased to within an inch of its life, it was pulled up in a messy ponytail. Her purse wasn’t some chic little clutch, it was a monster of a handbag, the likes of which could hold everything a mom might need. You chuckled as she drove away, noting the model on the side of the car as it turned out of the parking lot in front of you. _Impala._ It wasn’t a classic like Dean’s Baby, maybe only five or six years old, but you could only imagine Dean’s reaction to it. She probably had to listen to him wax on about how they aren’t made like they used to be.

 _So, he didn’t pick her up at the bar, he rescued her from her car. Then, he gave her advice about her kid and her ex? How the fuck does he know shit about kids or exes? Or dealing with an ex about a kid, or vice versa?_ Maybe there was more to Dean than you thought, after all.

All of a sudden, you desperately wanted to know everything about Dean. You knew the obvious things, like his love for his brother, his car, and his pie, but even stunt demon #7 knew those things about Dean Winchester. What you didn’t know was why he had chosen to bring that woman back to the motel. How did he know what to say to make a woman like her agree to a one-night stand? How did he know what advice to give someone who wasn’t living a life filled with monsters?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming around the corner, and you looked up to see Dean notice you and freeze in place. After a nervous second, he picked up his feet and walked over to you, sitting down next to you. You pushed one of the coffee cups towards him and he took it with a smile and a grateful nod.

“So, how long have you been out here?” Dean asked, trying to sound nonchalant while he sipped his tepid coffee. He grimaced at the flavor, which was probably made worse by how long it had been sitting out with you.

“A while. Sam and I got pretty drunk last night, so I figured I’d eat out here and let him sleep, rather than wake him up by going back into the room.”

Dean’s head bobbed in your peripheral vision and he shifted in his seat. “I guess that means you heard everything, huh?” He sipped his coffee, still staring out ahead of you at nothing in particular.

You finished your omelet and pushed away the container with a sigh. “Yeah.” An uncomfortable silence fell while you looked for the right words to ask the questions you wanted to ask. “I get the feeling there’s a lot more to you than I bargained for, Dean Winchester, and I think that means I owe you an apology or twelve.”

Dean turned to face you just long enough to cock an eyebrow at you, then resumed staring at the nothing in front of you. “No apology needed, Y/N.”

“If it’s all right with you, Dean, I’d like to start over, maybe get to know who you really are, instead of just assuming I know everything based on a first impression? Maybe find out how you know how to give good advice to a soccer mom, for a start?” Your lips curled into a little smile, and you were rewarded when Dean flashed a little smile of his own.

“I’d really like that, Y/N.” Dean leaned over and nudged your shoulder with his gently. “I really would.”


	13. Generation Gap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Are you...watching a Disney movie?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet! Un-beta’d so all mistakes are mine. Thanks to @kayteonline and @for-the-love-of-dean for the help with this!! Check out @one-shots-supernatural for other submissions and requirements to participate in this challenge!

Dean walked past your bedroom door, then did a double-take, stepping backwards so he could stand in your doorway and listen. You frowned as you saw him standing there, a thoughtful expression on his face, while he tried to figure out what movie you were watching without looking. Taking a deep breath, you let it out slowly, bracing yourself for the ridicule.

“Are you…watching a Disney movie?” Dean asked, stepping into your room just far enough to see your screen.

Dropping your face into your hands, you groaned. “Yes. It’s awful. I’m too old for this shit,” you said, shaking your head and wiping your hands over your face.

Dean chuckled, settling down on the bed next to you. “As the oldest person in the bunker, you would be the expert on that,” he joked, ducking from your hit before it could land. “Why are you watching this, then, if you don’t like it?”

Your eyes rolled so hard you thought you may have seen part of your brain. “Stupid millennial witch is obsessed with Disney movies and keeps putting people into Disney-like situations. Currently, she’s got a woman with really long hair stuck in a tower that’s warded so you can’t see it if you don’t know it’s there. I figured I’d better watch the stupid movie to see what I might be up against.”

Dean blinked, then pressed his lips together to stifle a laugh. “ _Tangled_? She’s remaking _Tangled_?”

“Don’t laugh, Dean. I lost the last victim in a giant ice cube.”

Dean snorted, in spite of his best efforts not to laugh. “ _Frozen_? Wow. She’s… inventive.” Dean’s dimples were out in full force while he did his best to suppress his laughter.

Grabbing a pillow, you smacked him in the head with it. “It’s not funny, Dean! I’m completely in over my head, you jackass! Before this case, the last Disney movie I saw was _The Lion King_!!”

Dean grabbed the pillow you were trying to hit him with and just stared at you. “What have you been doing for the past twenty-five or so years?”

Glaring, you replied, “Not having children, not babysitting my non-existent nieces and nephews, and not watching movies, that’s for damn sure.” Stealing your pillow back from him, you hugged it to your chest and flopped back down on the bed so you could go back to studying the movie through the stinging behind your eyes.

The bed dipped behind you before Dean pressed up against your back and wrapped his arm around you. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I forgot about what you lost, and how early you lost it.”

You pressed yourself against Dean, enjoying his warmth, trying not to remember your ruined wedding day so many years ago. You had been so very young when it was all taken away.

In the quiet that fell, you stared at the TV until what was on the screen suddenly made it through the fog of your memories. “Dean? Is that some kind of Viking playing the piano with a hook?”

Dean shifted behind you to see the screen better, and you felt the laugh bubble up in his chest behind you. “Yeah, I think so.”

Just then, two mice and a lizard were dancing on the screen. Well, the mice were dancing, or maybe they were rats, the lizard just looked befuddled. Your own laughter bubbled up at the images on the screen, and you collapsed into giggles, Dean snorting a laugh behind you.

Dean grabbed the remote and stopped the movie, then looked down at you when you twisted to look up at him. “How about we help you out with this hunt? We can call Claire and see if she’ll help us out with research so we’re not spinning our wheels and wasting time watching Disney movies when we could be ganking witches. Sound like a plan?”

You nodded, giving Dean a wide grin. “Thanks, Dean.”

Dean kissed your forehead before getting up. “No problem, sweetheart.”


	14. Bayou Bugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "This is ten times worse than that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-beta’d, so all mistakes are mine. Check out @one-shots-supernatural for other submissions and requirements to participate in this challenge!

This is what you got for taking a case in the Louisiana bayou in August: heat exhaustion and mosquito bites. Lots and lots of mosquito bites.

In the end, you didn’t know what the monster was, since he had seemed equally at home in the woods and the swamps and was just generally hard to kill. You figured he’d started killing people because he was cranky in the heat. Not even monsters like Louisiana in August, apparently. Sam and Dean had taken care of the monster, chopping him up into little bits and burning the body to be safe, while you were dry heaving your guts up, assuring them that you were fine. Eventually, you did stop trying to puke up the nothing that was left in your stomach… when you passed out. In a swamp. You dropped like the proverbial sack of potatoes right into the muck.

Yuck.

Sam had grabbed you up and taken you to the car while Dean finished with the fire. Once you were out of the swamp and had some water in you, you felt much better. You were still covered in swamp muck with who-knows-what in your hair, but the nausea and dizziness had passed.

You’d thought you were home free until you took your shower.

The water had felt wonderful, even though it was tepid, because it was clean. As you had used a scratchy motel washcloth to soap up your body, washing away the dirt and grime from the swamp, your skin had started to itch. By the time you were clean, it took every ounce of self-control you had not to scratch. Scratching would only make it worse, and extend your misery. You’d used bug spray, and used it liberally, almost to the point where it had nauseated you, but the bugs must have seen you as an all-you-can-eat buffet, anyway, completely ignoring both Winchesters.

You were now lying on your bed, in sleep shorts and a flimsy tank top, your knees bent so your legs wouldn’t touch the fabric of the comforter, and you were trying so very hard not to squirm. There were so many bites on your arms and legs, you looked positively contagious. Calamine lotion just wasn’t cutting it.

The door opened, and Sam walked in with a huge bag in his hand. “All right, I got you everything you used that time you got poison ivy on the Wendigo hunt. Oatmeal bath, Benadryl cream, cortisone cream, ibuprofen, junk food, and movies to distract you.”

“Oh, God, Sam, this is ten times worse than that. You might have to just knock me the fuck out or something,” you groaned, your hands twitching with the urge to scratch.

Sam gave you a gentle smile and sat down on the bed next to you. “Well, if all else fails, I have a tried-and-true solution, but it’s not the best idea, so I’d rather you use all of this other stuff, first.”

Giving Sam your best puppy eyes, you pushed out your lower lip into a pout. “You’re not going to give me a sure thing? Sammy, I thought you loved me!”

He chuckled, then leaned in to give you a quick peck on your lips. “I do love you, and if you do the sure thing wrong, it could make things worse, which is why I want you in that bathtub.”

Sam was wonderful. Knowing how you loathed to take baths in motel bathrooms, he had also bought cleaning supplies to sterilize the bathtub. After he had cleaned it so thoroughly it had a mirror finish, he drew a bath and put the oatmeal mix into the water for you. You soaked in the bath, covered yourself with both creams, and tried to settle in the bed to sleep.

The itch was still ridiculous.

Trying to rationalize that squirming under the sheets wasn’t exactly scratching, you tossed and turned, some part of your body always in motion, until Sam finally gave up trying to sleep.

“All right! Enough! I’ll show you!”

Grinning, you watched him get out of bed and dig in the bag until he brought out… a spoon? It wasn’t a plastic spoon, though, it was a real metal spoon. He took it over to the coffeemaker that you had crowed over when you’d arrived, since motels didn’t normally have such luxuries, and brewed a cup of hot water. Sticking the spoon into the water, he brought the hot water over to you.

“The trick is to make the spoon as hot as you can stand it without it being so hot it actually burns you.” He pulled the spoon from the water and tested it on the back of his hand, tapping it against his skin until it cooled a bit. “If this is too hot, you have to tell me,” he said with a worried look.

He pressed the hot spoon to one of the bites on your leg, and you felt the extreme heat soak into your skin. For a second, the itch increased, and then it died off with the sting of the heat. As you smiled and took a breath, he removed the spoon and put it back into the hot water.

“Normally, I’d just use hot tap water, but since the tap water here doesn’t get hot, I had to improvise. I don’t like doing this because it’s easy to burn yourself and make the problem worse. You have to ride that fine line between not hot enough and too hot to make it work.”

You stared at the bite on your leg, which miraculously no longer itched, waiting for the itch to return. When the itch stayed away after a full minute, you looked up at Sam with an incredulous smile, before smacking his arm as hard as you could. “Why didn’t you tell me about this when I had the poison ivy!?!?!”

Sam backed away and rubbed his arm where you’d hit him. “Ow! Hey! It doesn’t work on poison ivy, just bug bites, that’s why!”

Grabbing the spoon, you tapped it against your hand to feel the temperature, then pressed it against another bite. With each bite you treated, little bits of tension left your body. After you’d treated all of your bites, you sat back and relaxed with a happy sigh. Sam poured out the water and left the cup with the spoon in it on the counter for when you’d need it later. He crawled back into the bed with you, and you pressed yourself up against him with a happy sigh.

“You take such good care of me, Sam. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Sam kisses you gently. “You’ll never have to find out, because I’ll always be there for you. Now, get some sleep so you can feel better so I can take care of you in other ways tomorrow.”

Your eyes widened for a moment, your mouth spreading into a wide grin, and you felt a surge of heat between your thighs as his eyes darkened. With a sigh, you had to admit to yourself, though, that you were still feeling drained from the hunt and the heat exhaustion. Accepting your fate, you rested your head back on his chest, letting the steady beat of his heart lull you to sleep.


	15. Medicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: "I'm trying my best to be polite, here," and the song Medicated by Louden Swain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is pulling double duty this week. This is for the SPN Hiatus Writing Challenge Week 15, and is also a late entry for the Louden Swain SPN Writing Challenge.
> 
> Thanks to @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell for doing a quick and dirty read through to help me polish this off, and for picking out a name for my OFC. Otherwise, this is un-beta’d, so if you see any mistakes, please let me know so I can fix them before printing for the Louden Swain project. Check out @one-shots-supernatural for other submissions to the Hiatus Challenge and requirements to participate!

The first time Sam saw her, he was in the dining room, trying to choke down grey meatloaf and runny mashed potatoes. This was early on, before the doctors and nurses gave up on him and started sending his meals to his room. Not that he ate much, since Lucifer kept turning his meals into maggots. Why Lucifer bothered was a better question, considering the food was unattractive enough without the squirming insects.

But that wasn’t the point. Lucifer wasn’t the point. The doctors giving up on him wasn’t the point. She was the point. He had just pushed his tray away, deciding that the blood Lucifer had replaced his water with was easier to ignore than the reality of his plate, when she flipped her tray over and began screaming.

Her eyes blazed, her hair floating around her face, making her look ethereal, in spite of her ranting. “It’s not my fault you don’t want to believe the truth, Ramona! I’m telling you, they look like people, but they’re not! And all we are is food to them…!”

Her rant was interrupted by three orderlies who had tackled her and injected her with something. As she folded into their hold and into unconsciousness, Sam caught a glimpse of a tattoo as her shirt rode up.

It matched the one on his chest perfectly.

Before he could think on her further, Lucifer set off a string of firecrackers on the table by Sam’s hand, making him jump and forget about the girl with the tattoo. Once Lucifer had his attention, Sam swore Lucifer’s smiled actually _pinged_ like in the old toothpaste commercials.

Lucifer’s smile was covered by a megaphone as he said, “Not hungry? They’re a good source of protein, you know.” The megaphone shrieked and clicked as the Devil pulled the trigger over and over.

Sam knocked over his chair trying to calmly walk away from his own, personal Hell.

The next time he saw her, she was in the common room, looking a little glazed over, most likely from whatever meds the doctors had seen fit to dose her up with after her outburst. He remembered what she had ranted about, and wondered if she was actually talking about Leviathan, or if she was ranting about something in her own imagination. He’d seen hunters who went off the deep end. Martin, for one. When you’ve seen enough monsters, sometimes your mind just decides to take a vacation. She was a hell of a lot prettier than Martin ever was, though, and he hoped she could be a bright spot in the middle of the hell that was around him.

She left no indication that she saw him sitting down across the table from her. Her eyes were focused on whatever was outside the window, darting back and forth like she was trying to catalogue the motion of every animal, insect, and flower. Sam looked at the checkers set on the table and wondered if she’d respond if he spoke to her. Lucifer sat down in a nearby corner and made lewd observations about her. Sam pressed down on the scar on his hand, and was actually surprised when it worked. He cleared the board in front of him and set it up for a game while he considered what to say to her. In the end, he decided to keep it simple.

“My name’s Sam. What’s yours?”

Her eyes continued their scan of the outdoors, but now he was included in their rounds. The distrust came off of her in waves as she curled into herself further. Sam reached up to his collar and pulled it down just enough to show off his tattoo. The next time her eyes landed on him, they widened just a fraction, resting on his chest for a half a second longer than they had previously before returning to the window. Sam moved one of the checkers on the board in front of him while he waited for her to respond. Eventually, he just started playing a game against himself. He was halfway to winning, and losing, when she finally spoke.

“Mariah.”

Sam looked up and smiled the smile that he usually only brought out for families of victims. “Nice to meet you, Mariah.”

His fingers fiddled with one of the checkers while he considered both the board and the girl. He moved a few more pieces, kinging himself on both sides before the red checkers had a massive run and wiped out all but two of the black checkers.

“So, were you talking vamps, wolves, or Levis at dinner last night?” Sam kept his voice low so no one else would hear, but hopefully loud enough for her.

Her eyes were now spending more and more time on him every time they made their circuit, and he hoped that was a good sign. The black side tried to rally by taking out two red kings, but couldn’t survive with only two checkers left, so red won. Sam cleared the board and set it up again.

“I know vamps. I know wolves. I don’t know what these things are, just that they have a lot of, you know,” she tapped her teeth with a fingernail, “teeth. They look totally normal, then their heads open up and it’s just teeth, teeth, teeth, teeth, teeth….”

She descended into fearful muttering, her eyes going back to the window.

Sam started another game, but this time didn’t move to play both sides, giving her the option to play. “They’re called Leviathan. My brother and I have been trying to figure out what they’re doing and stop them.”

Mariah turned her entire body toward him and the table, leaning forward and spitting out her words in little more than an angry, hissed whisper. “You can’t stop them! Nothing works! Not silver, not salt, not iron, not holy water, not spells, not hex bags, not poison, not knives, not bullets, not NOTHING! They’re fucking _invincible_ , and if you think you can stop them, then you’re crazier than everyone else in this joint, even me.”

Sam sat back as her words blew through him, his eyes wide. She glared at him, seeming to stare into his very soul. Just when he thought he couldn’t take another second, without losing his gaze, she pulled a hand up from under the table and moved one of the checkers into play. Just as quickly, she returned to her previous curled-up position, her eyes resuming their watchful trip around the window.

Pushing another game piece into play, Sam watched her more closely than his hand. “They’re not invincible. They’re just incredibly hard to kill and keep dead.” Her eyes landed on him for another moment, then went back to the window, obviously not believing him. “Borax burns them, weakens them. It gives you a chance to cut off their heads. Then, you just have to keep the heads far away from the bodies or they’ll reattach.”

Mariah shook her head just enough that Sam could see it, not believing a word he says. “I’m trying my best to be polite, here, but there’s no fucking way fucking household cleaner is going to take down the worst monster any hunter has ever seen. So, why don’t you go talk with the voices in your head and leave me alone?”

Sam sighed, looking for the words that will convince her he knows what he’s talking about, but Lucifer had other plans.

“Wow, Sam. Even the certifiable think you’re crazy. Good thing you’re here and not out in the world fighting evil, right? I mean, it’s not like Dean needs you or anything, now that Bobby’s dead and Castiel is dead and, well, everyone’s dead, really. But I’m sure Dean’ll be fine on his own, right?”

Sam pressed his thumb into his palm, but Lucifer didn’t budge. Lucifer laughed in his face, then started singing Erasure’s “ _A Little Respect”_ at the top of his lungs until Sam got up and speed-walked back to his room, where he could at least suffer without an audience.

On his way back to his room after a therapy session with the doctor the following day, Sam saw Mariah in the common room with a man, obviously a visitor. He looked somewhat familiar, but Sam couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just his clothes, since he was wearing a typical hunter’s wardrobe of plaid, denim, and Army surplus. Lucifer was pretending to be his best buddy just then, though, regaling Sam with stories from the Cage like they were at a class reunion talking about their senior prom. The hand trick hadn’t worked at all since his talk with Mariah, so he didn’t even try this time, not wanting his abject failure to hold it together to be insanely obvious to yet another hunter. He ducked his head so Mariah’s visitor wouldn’t see his face, and he returned to his room to try and take a nap.

One of the other patients, Marin, helped him out with a candy bar after Lucifer turned his lunch into a cesspool again, but was scared off when Sam started flinching at Lucifer’s use of the megaphone. After she was gone, Sam started to wonder how much more time he had before his body would give out and he’d finally get some peace.

That night, as everyone else slept, Lucifer was trying to play a tuba. Trying was the best description, since he certainly hadn’t managed to find a tune in the three hours he’d been blowing into the thing. Suddenly, Lucifer stopped, and stared out the open door. Within seconds, Sam was dozing off to sleep, only to be woken up by Mariah shaking his shoulders.

“Now’s not the time to be sleeping, Winchester! We’ve got Leviathans to kill, and we certainly aren’t going to do it locked up in this joint!”

Startled out of sleep, yet again, but this time by something real, Sam stared at Mariah with unfocused eyes for a moment until her words seeped into his brain.

“How’d you know my last name? What do you mean we’re leaving?” He allowed Mariah to force him out of bed and towards the door.

“My brother was here and recognized you, and now he’s gonna break us out of here, but you have to _get a move on, Sam!_ ” She got behind him and started to push him towards the door, but didn’t get far.

Sam worked his way out of her hold and took her arms in his hands, looking at her with sadness in his eyes. “I can’t leave, Mariah. I’m too sick to be out there right now, or I would be.”

She looked into his eyes in amazement. “What the actual fuck, Winchester? You can fix the Apocalypse but you can’t hunt because you have a tummy ache?”

Sam closed his eyes and took a breath. How could he explain what was wrong with him? There weren’t enough hours in the day to explain everything that was wrong with him, but a tummy ache certainly wasn’t the problem.

“She’s got a point, Sam. You should be out there hunting monsters, not chillin’ out in here, doing nothing but taking advantage of the three hots and a cot they provide.” Lucifer rocked back on his heels, his arms crossed in front of him, his mouth twisted into an evil smirk.

Sam turned to Lucifer, even though he knew he shouldn’t, and growled, “Shut up!”

Lucifer cooed and giggled like a teenage fangirl, but Sam didn’t notice it in favor of seeing the look on Mariah’s face. Realization that she had been right about him hallucinating covered her face, and having yet another person see him so weak brought tears to his eyes. Sam rubbed both hands over his face in frustration, feeling his exhaustion through every part of his body.

“Believe me, Mariah, I would love to leave here with you and go hunting with you, but I belong here.”

Mariah’s shoulders slumped, but she spent no more than a second mourning the loss of his companionship. “All right, well, then, I guess I go it alone.”

Sam sighed and dropped his gaze to the floor. “Yeah, you’ll have to.” Pulling his eyes back to up to hers, he touched her arm with one hand. “Good luck, though. And if you ever need help, look up my brother and tell him I sent you.”

Mariah nodded. “Will do.” Her eyes scanned the room and the hallway and Sam could tell she was about to make a run for it.

Sam gave in to an urge he didn’t know he had and bent down to kiss her cheek. As he pulled away, she looked at him in wonder. “Bye, Mariah. Be safe.”

She nodded again, her eyes as big as saucers. “I will, but, uh, I kind of need you to do me a favor, first, okay?”

Sam shifted from one foot to the other as his cheeks pinked. Lucifer cooed and ahhed and made kissing noises behind him, but he focused on the woman in front of him. “Sure. What do you need?”

“Well, could you maybe make a distraction for me so I have a chance of getting out past Nurse Ratched?” She twisted her fingers together, knowing that causing a distraction for her would most likely get Sam more heavily medicated than he already was.

Giving her an awkward smile, Sam replied, “Yeah. Sure. No problem.”

Two weeks later, long after Cas had taken his place in the hospital and Dean had insisted Sam rest for a few days, Sam tried to track down Mariah. Frank finally found her, back in the very same hospital, put there by her brother. Sam wondered if things would have turned out differently if he’d maybe convinced her to stay, or maybe gone with her. He was pulled from his reverie by his brother.

“That was Annie. She’s got some stuff that belonged to Bobby and we need to pick it up. Gear up, Sammy!”


	16. Ours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I'm trying to crack a safe, be quiet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this half asleep, and I think I’m late, so please forgive any and all errors, or if this is complete crap. Check out @one-shots-supernatural for other submissions and requirements to participate in this challenge!

Once upon a time, you’d been a master thief. You’d stolen from high society auctions, safe deposit boxes inside of locked bank vaults, and highly-protected exhibits in high-security museums. The bigger the challenge, the better, and money wasn’t always your motivator.

That is, until you met Dean and Sam Winchester on a job.

Your goal was a necklace worth a few thousand dollars. It wasn’t your typical loot, but something about it had caught your eye. It was pretty. It was the first time you had decided to steal something for yourself since the last time you’d had to steal food.

Dean and Sam took your prize, though, holding you back while they destroyed it with salt and fire. When the flames died, you stopped fighting the strong arms wrapped around you, and suddenly wondered what you had been thinking. Why had you wanted the necklace so badly? It was actually kind of ugly.

As Sam’s arms relaxed, Dean explained the curse on the necklace. It was geared to someone like you. It called out to be stolen and hoarded away until it sucked your very life force from your body. Or until another thief stole it, if you were lucky.

The brothers had clued you in to how the world really worked, you exchanged information in case you ever saw something hinky or they ever needed your services, and you went on your way. You tried to go back to life as usual, but suddenly all you saw were signs and omens. Your partner, Joey, hadn’t been there for your meeting with the Winchesters, and you couldn’t get him to understand why you were looking at things differently without telling him the truth, so you went your separate ways.

A couple of months later, you moved in to the bunker with the brothers and started your life as a hunter.

You’d been out of the game, and into the hunting life, for almost a year, now. The brothers had taken you under their wing, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you belonged somewhere. It had taken a while for them to trust you, but you’d known Bela back in the day, too, so you understood. Once your trust issues were conquered, though, you wondered how you ever got along without them.

Today, though, your worlds were colliding. Joey had called you because he needed help on a job. In doing the necessary research, you’d discovered that what Joey was going after was bad news. He thought it was just an old book, but you and Sam had discovered it was actually a pretty powerful spell book, almost comparable to the Book of the Damned. You’d agreed to help, and were hoping to keep Joey in the dark about what it really was and how you were going to try and destroy it.

“Y/N!” Joey exclaimed when he saw you outside of his house. “God, I’ve missed you, girl,” he said, bringing you into his arms and holding you closely, cradling your head and kissing your temple. When you pulled away, he held your head and searched your face for changes or signs that you were anything but fine. Your smile seemed to settle his nerves, and he kissed your forehead before tucking you under his arm and facing the Winchesters.

Dean and Sam both frowned, their faces looking almost thunderous, but you couldn’t figure out why. “Guys, this is Joey, my teacher, my old partner, my friend. Joey, this is Dean and Sam Winchester, my new partners in crime.”

Without letting go of your shoulders, Joey put out his hand to shake with each brother, completely unaware of how both of them eyed his arm. The tension didn’t seem to wane until you all were inside of Joey’s house, sitting around the table and talking strategy. You felt eyes on you as you moved comfortably in Joey’s space, getting out mugs and making coffee like you had a million times before, but you didn’t understand why those eyes were on you. You glanced at Joey, wondering if there was some unfinished business between you, but he just gave you a wide smile.

Later that evening, you spent some time in Joey’s garage, working on a model of the safe you’d need to crack to get this job done. Speed was very important, so you needed to be able to get in, crack it, and get out inside a couple of minutes. Since you were rusty, and Joey didn’t have the ears for it after years of demolitions work, practice was needed. While you focused on listening to tumblers click and clack, the brothers studied blueprints and lore, making sure they hadn’t missed any vital information about where you all were going or what you’d face when it came time to try and destroy the book. Joey had gone to bed a while ago, leaving the three of you alone.

“So, Y/N,” Dean said, “I take it you and Joey were close, huh?”

 _Click, click, click, click, clack, thunk!_ “Yeah. We kind of lived in each other’s pockets for a lot of years. He taught me everything I know, and we saved each other’s asses on the regular.” Turning the knob in the other direction, you listened to more clicks and clacks.

“It seemed like maybe he was interested in more than just saving your ass, ya know?”

Your attention left the tumblers as you heard a smack come from behind you.

“It’s none of our business, Dean,” Sam muttered, pushing another book into Dean’s lap. You tried to refocus on the tumblers, but realized you’d lost count of where you were, so had to start over. With a heavy sigh, you cleared the lock and restarted your stopwatch.

 _Click, click, click, click, click, click, clack, thunk._ One down, two to go. _Click, click, click, click, click…_

“I’m just saying, if he’s going to be more focused on Y/N than the job, we need to know that ahead of time so we can make allowances.”

Feeling the annoyance build inside of you, you stopped your stopwatch and turned around. “Dean, I’m trying to crack a safe here. Can you be quiet for two damn minutes?”

The look on Dean’s face was almost comical. “Look, I know you need to practice, but this is important, too. I don’t like the way he looks at you, and I don’t trust him not to try something when we’re in the thick of things and accidentally getting us all killed, or cursed, or arrested!”

Taking a deep breath, you settled your anger so you could keep your voice down, but stood up to Dean. “Joey is a goddamn professional, Dean. Even if he had his eyes plastered to my goddamn ass the entire time, he’d still get the job done according to plan without a hitch. Right now, the only person who’s got me worried is you. Where’s all this sudden concern about who’s looking at my ass coming from, anyway? Since when do you care?”

Sam stood up and got between you and Dean, blocking your view of the older Winchester. Taking your head in his hands, he looked down at you steadily. “We care because you’re ours, Y/N.” Without warning, his lips were on yours, his tongue licking into your mouth while you struggled to keep up. As the kiss ended, you realized that Dean was now behind you, his hands on your hips as you clutched as his brother’s arms to stay standing through his onslaught.

Dean’s breath ghosted over your ear and neck as his lips found the sensitive skin there and send goosebumps down your spine. “We’ve wanted you for a while, but it never seemed to be the right time to tell you.”

Sam’s hand brushed hair out of your face while Dean’s hands squeezed your hips. Dean’s lips caressed your neck while Sam kissed you again, and you wondered if you were dreaming. When you came up for air, Dean’s arms wrapped around your middle, holding you tightly to him, while Sam’s arms wrapped around your shoulders, almost crushing you to his chest. Completely surrounded by Winchester, engulfed in the basic soap and detergent smell from both of them, you felt something inside of you let go and fall into place. This was where you belonged. Right there, in the middle of both of them.

“What do you say, Y/N?” Dean asked, rubbing circles into your sides with his thumbs.

You pulled your head away from Sam’s chest long enough to look at both of them seriously. “I’m yours.”


	17. Better Mileage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "How long have you been standing there?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, this is so late. Thanks to @one-shots-supernatural for being so forgiving. Now, I can work on Week 18, which is also late. *sigh* In other news, this was supposed to just be smut smut smut, but the characters had another idea. There is some smut, but it’s pretty mild. I’ll try to make up for it in my NaNoWriMo fic this year. Deal? Not beta’d because I’m impatient, even though this probably really needs it.

You opened the motel room door and set your eyes on a young, cute, and perky little girl with DD boobs, hair teased to within an inch of its life, and gum cracking noisily in her mouth. She gave you a wide grin and practically bounced as she spoke.

“Y/N, right? Dad sent me to help you and John out with this bloodsucker. He says hi, by the way.”

John pulled the door open wider and welcomed the girl into the room, leaving you to stand there and wonder how you would manage to trust this child with your life. You and John were old enough to be her parents, for God’s sake. That didn’t seem to stop John from looking, however. She couldn’t be more than 25, yet John’s eyes ran up and down her body at least twice while he showed her to the table and offered her a chair. She was what you needed for this hunt, though. All the victims had been drop-dead gorgeous, wearing skimpy clothes that showed off their assets. Basically, nothing like you.

Through the course of John briefing her about the case, Trisha proved to be very knowledgeable, and you felt badly for how you had underestimated her. You had been young, once, too, and you knew how it sucked to have to constantly prove yourself. If it weren’t for how John’s eyes kept falling on her, you might have even liked her.

It’s not like you had a claim on John, though. You were just occasional hunting partners. Okay, the occasion had risen more and more often, lately, but that was because you were finding excuses to call him, not the other way around. John seemed to like you as a person, and trust you as a hunting partner, but that was as far as his interest went. You wished your own interest was as innocent.

No, every time John drove away in that beast of an Impala, you watched him ride off into the sunset with a heavy sigh. On late night stakeouts by yourself, you thought about what you’d talk to him about if he were there. Maybe there wouldn’t be talking, for a change. Maybe he’d finally see past your love handles and crow’s feet and practical shoes to see that you were a woman who could give him more than just a better patch-up job than his kids did when he was hurt.

Not that you’d met his kids. He talked about them, sometimes, when you were digging a grave together, or having a celebratory drink. Sam wasn’t quite old enough to be left alone, but Dean was old enough to already be asking John if he’d get the Impala, someday. You’d seen a couple of pictures, but that was all. John didn’t seem interested in introducing you to anyone.

As John talked to Trisha about her part of the plan, you watched his eyes cover every inch of her. Dammit, why couldn’t he ever look at you that way?

The time came to gear up, and you hit the bathroom like any woman over forty with any sense does. You couldn’t exactly tell a vampire to hang on a minute while you went to pee during a fight. As you washed your hands, you looked at yourself long and hard in the mirror. Grey hairs, wrinkles, boobs that pointed south if left to their own devices, hips widened by the birth of the child you’d lost so very long ago, and that didn’t include the flaws hidden by your clothing. Stretch marks and cellulite were sure to make to him pant. Not.

“It’s no wonder he doesn’t look at you like that. There’s nothing worth seeing,” you muttered at the mirror with a grimace.

“What are you talking about, Y/N?”

Spinning around to see John standing in the doorway with a confused, yet almost thunderous, expression, you stared at him in shock. What exactly had he heard and how could you have forgotten that the bathroom door refused to latch in this room?

“Um, nothing, John. How long have you been standing there? Never mind, I was just psyching myself up for the hunt, you know? And, um, talking to myself helps me to remember things better. Old brain, right? Have to use all the tricks or I’ll start slipping.” You pushed past him into the motel room and grabbed your gear, thankfully keeping him from saying anything else as you joined Trisha outside the motel room door.

“Come on, old man,” Trisha teased, calling out to John, who was still standing by the bathroom door. “Shit or get off the pot, dude, we’ve got leeches to exterminate!”

Four hours later, the vamp was dead, along with the rest of his nest, and you were treating two girls who had made it out miraculously alive. The nest had been keeping them as blood slaves, drinking from them when times were lean. While Trisha and John cleaned up the bodies, you cleaned up their cuts and gave them advice, giving them hints on how to get the help they’d need without sounding like they should be committed.

After the nest was clean and the girls were dropped off at the nearest hospital, the three of you cleaned up and headed to the nearest bar to wind down. Trisha went off to dance and hustle some boys at the pool tables, while you and John watched from the bar. It wasn’t long before she let you know she was getting her own room and told you not to wait up while a handsome young buck waited for her at the door. You watched her go, missing your own youth, and watching John watch her go out of the corner of your eye. A comfortable quiet fell between you as you both turned back to your drinks, and you considered just heading back to the motel and getting some sleep.

“That kid probably thinks we’re her parents,” John joked with a laugh. “If I hadn’t just seen her take off three vamp heads, I would have given him a lecture just for shits and giggles.” John took a drink while you chuckled at the thought. “Pretty sure she can take care of herself, though.”

A silence descended between the two of you while you thought again of excuses to leave. A good night’s sleep would do wonders for your state of mind, most likely.

“So, what is it exactly that you think she has that you don’t?” John’s low growl startled you out of your thoughts of scratchy motel sheets and flat pillows.

“I’m sorry, what?” you sputtered, an attractive spurt of whiskey running down your chin in your shock. John handed you a napkin, but looked somewhat annoyed.

“Earlier today, you were looking in the mirror and comparing yourself to her. I want to know exactly what you think she has that you don’t.”

Wiping your chin, you hid your eyes from his and wondered how you could get out of this conversation without too much embarrassment. “Oh, you know, she’s got youth, stamina, and doesn’t have to stop more often to pee than to gas her car when she’s heading to a hunt.” Wiping down the dribbles on your shirt kept you from having to look up at his face. All you could do was hope he’d let it go.

John chuckled. “That’s because she drives a truck and you drive a sensible sedan. You’ve got better gas mileage, sweetheart, that’s all.”

You couldn’t help but look up at John in shock, though you tried to laugh it off. “You can defend my car all you want, John, and I’ll thank you for it, but you know what I mean. It’s been a long time since I was anything like her.” In the back of your mind, another voice taunted you. _And even then, you never would have measured up._

A quiet moment passed, making you think it was over. You stared at the wall of bottles behind the bar and smiled when the bartender refilled your glass.

“That’s good, sweetheart, because I like you just the way you are.”

Your eyes flew to John’s face, but he was staring into his drink. Did he mean what you thought he meant? “I knew I was the best hunting partner you ever had without you telling me, but it’s certainly nice to hear it, John. Thanks.” You smiled and nudged his shoulder with yours playfully.

John set down his drink, then swiveled in his stool until he was facing you, resting his left hand on your left arm on the bar. “Although you are a damn fine hunter, Y/N, that’s not what I meant.”

His thumb rubbed circles into your skin, and you felt goosebumps go up your arm and down your spine. A gulp of whiskey went down your throat easily, giving you the strength to call John on his bullshit. Turning in your own seat to face him, you steeled yourself against losing John once and for all.

“John, don’t be ridiculous. I saw how you looked at her. Hell, if I were you, I’d have looked at her all damn day and probably gotten my head bitten off during the hunt. Nobody looks at me like that anymore, and honestly, only one man ever did. He was a good man, with a kind heart, and he gave me a good life and a son before they were taken away. I’m not what turns men’s heads. I never was, and I never will be. So, thanks for trying to cheer me up, but I don’t need you blowing hot air up my skirt.”

Throwing down a pile of bills you hoped covered your tab, you headed for the door, hoping John would give you enough time to walk back to the motel and crawl into bed before he left the bar. You could pretend to be asleep when he got back, and you both could pretend this never happened when the morning came. As you passed the Impala, heavy footsteps came up behind you and a hand landed on your shoulder. You spun under the hand to defend yourself in case it wasn’t John, but it was, and he pushed you up against the side of his car, pressing close to you and surrounding you so you couldn’t escape. You also couldn’t avoid breathing in his aftershave or feeling the heat of his body as he hovered in front of you, his chest heaving with yours.

When he didn’t make another move, you slowly dragged your eyes from his chest up through his beard, past his mouth, and to his eyes. Dark and hooded, they roamed your face while his mouth almost turned up into a smirk. Your heart was beating wildly, now, wondering what he was going to do while you drowned in sensory overload. You were getting drunk on his scent, his heat, his eyes, and the way his body seemed to want to press against yours, but he was holding himself back. One hand moved from the car up to your face, caressing your cheek before tangling his fingers in your hair and cradling your head.

“I’m not blowing hot air, Y/N. I’ve wanted you from the moment I met you, but I thought you’d never want me. I’ve kept my distance because I thought all I did was remind you of what you lost. I’ve watched you slice up vamps, take on werewolves, and dig graves the way most men watch strippers on a pole, sweetheart. You’re the hottest thing on two legs no matter what you’re doing, and I’d love to prove it to you right now.”

Your heart was in your throat as you stared into his eyes. They were so dark, a stranger wouldn’t have known what color they were, but you did. Nervously, unable to speak, you nodded and John smiled.

Suddenly, his entire body pressed against yours and you felt the heat of him searing into you through your clothes. His hips pressed into yours, and what felt like a steel rod dug into your hip. An answering heat began to build up between your thighs, your core pulsing with want as the proof of how he wanted you seemed to grow impossibly bigger against you. Your arms wrapped around him, your hands clutching at the leather jacket on his back to pull him even closer to you. The groan that came out of his mouth was feral as his head fell next to yours, his face buried in your hair.

“Do you feel what you do to me, Y/N? From the moment you call me until the moment I run away when the hunt is done, I’m fighting not to fucking embarrass myself because of you.” His hips began grinding into yours, and the hand that wasn’t tangled in your hair moved from the car down your side until he pulled your leg up over his hip, opening you up for him so he could slot himself against your core. A loud moan escaped your mouth as he began rocking into you, pushing the seam of your jeans against your clit just right to send sparks shooting throughout your body. Probably in an effort to quiet you, John’s lips slammed onto yours, his tongue invading your mouth and taking over like he owned it.

In all honestly, he did.

Whether he knew it or not, John had owned all of you from the first hunt you’d shared with him. Now that he was in your arms, his tongue licking into your mouth and his cock grinding against your clit, you gave it all over to him, not caring that you were leaning against his car in a bar parking lot where anyone could see you. You gave him every pant, every moan, every whimper you’d ever let out in every empty motel room every time you’d ever dreamed of his hands and his lips on your skin. With every noise he had to muffle with his lips and tongue, his hips seemed to press harder, rock faster, and his hands squeezed your flesh tighter and tugged your hair rougher until your body completely let go. His name was lost in his mouth as you convulsed against him, breathing hard through your nose as John swallowed every noise you made. As you came down, he slowed his movements, finally breaking up the kiss and just petting your hair and you both panted.

“Did you just…?” John asked quietly, his forehead resting against yours.

“Um, yeah,” you mumbled, embarrassed beyond measure that you couldn’t even hold it together during a make out session in a parking lot.

John’s hips flexed against yours as he groaned and dropped his head almost to your shoulder. His breathing was ragged in your ear as you slid your hands down his back and into his jacket, exploring the feel of his warm back with one less layer between you and his skin.

“’God, baby, you’re so fucking hot, you’re gonna kill me right here in this parking lot.” He panted for another minute, letting your leg drop back down to the ground and his hips back away from yours, but still cradling the back of your head, the hand that was holding your leg instead gripping your hip. “I just need a minute, sweetheart, or I’m gonna lose it,” he murmured into your hair before letting his lips roam your neck.

Could this be for real? Did you really have The John Fucking Winchester panting against you, almost unable to keep from coming in his pants in bar parking lot because of you? His lips left open-mouthed kisses all over your neck, and you felt new zings of pleasure shoot to your core, reigniting the fire you thought had died. Your insecurities wouldn’t be quieted this time, though, and all you could see was John’s eyes on Trisha’s ass.

“John, if you’ve wanted me this much for so long, why do I always see you checking out other women? I mean, I saw how you looked at Trisha.” Your voice was so quiet, you were afraid he didn’t even hear you, at first.

John’s lips left your neck as he pulled away and looked you in the eyes. You finally saw a million different emotions swimming in the hazel depths.

“I know what you’ve lost, Y/N, and I’m barely a pale imitation. I thought it was better to keep you at arm’s length rather than try and end up hurting you.” He stroked your hair and sighed. “Do you really want to get involved with a single father out for revenge on the thing that killed his wife? Do you really want to hear about my boys? Can you honestly tell me you won’t be constantly reminded of your husband and son?”

Looking into his face, you finally saw why he had held back. You had already gotten your revenge. You’d killed the werewolf that had turned your family and tried to turn you, but John was still looking for that. Until he found it, he’d never be able to give himself to anyone fully. On your side, could you get involved with his sons and not be constantly reminded of the son you’d lost?

You dropped your gaze and pressed your face into his chest, inhaling his scent. Your arms pulled him tightly against you, and his arms wrapped around you in return. Resting your head against his chest, you listened to his heart beat under your ear, and remembered what it felt like to hold your husband this way. Your husband had been so very different, though. John was taller, harder, his scent was sharper, and his voice was deeper. Your son had barely been out of diapers, but his kids were teenagers, or close to it. Most of all, your husband and son had been gone for over fifteen years, but John was right there, under your hands, and already under your skin.

Leaning back, you looked up at John and smiled, hoping to dispel the fear in his eyes. “I think I would certainly like to try if you would, John. It won’t be easy for either of us, but I’d rather try and fail than regret never giving it a shot.”

John’s face split into a wide grin before he swooped down and kissed you hard. When he finally came up for air, he was still grinning. “First, I’m gonna take you back to our motel room and fuck you like I’ve been dreaming about since the day we met. Then, we’re gonna go to Bobby’s to store your car, because you’re riding with me from now on.”

Your own grin matched his as you let one of your hands slide down his back to his ass, which you gave a good squeeze. “Sounds good to me, John,” you said, your heart in your throat at the thought of the future ahead of you. “Sounds good to me.”


	18. The Importance of Being Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "With this face I can get away with anything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow, it’s done! It’s late, but better late than never, right? This is my final submission for @one-shots-supernatural Hiatus Challenge!! I’m so proud of myself for completing this, even though I got it done late. Next challenge for myself is NaNoWriMo!!  
>  Shout out to @faith-in-dean who picked this week’s pairing! Well, sort of. (I think this falls under “giving the people what they want in a way they don’t expect.”)  
>  Un-beta’d because I’m impatient.

Your phone rang, disrupting your attempts to clear your mind, and you sighed the annoyed sigh of a woman who really just wanted nothing more than a moment’s peace. Glancing at your phone, you saw the name Dean Winchester, and grabbed it, in spite of your better judgement.

Instead of the normal deep rumble of Dean Winchester, though, you heard a slightly higher, smoother tone. “Gilly? Thank God. I was afraid you wouldn’t pick up after last time.”

“Who is this, how do you know that name, and how did you get Dean Winchester’s phone?” Your heart was racing a mile a minute, now, ready to send you into a flurry of activity.

“Y/N, it’s me, I swear it’s me, even though I know I sound a little funny right now. And no one else knows that name, sweetheart, that’s how you know it’s me.”

Your eyes squinted as you stared at your phone. “Tell me why you call me Gilly and maybe I’ll believe you.”

“Because it annoys you. You always said your family was more _Practical Magic_ than _Hocus Pocus_ , but you thought Gillian was an idiot.”

You tried to mesh the voice on your phone with the hunter you knew, but failed. “All right, let’s say I believe you. Why do you sound so wrong?”

“I got into a bit of trouble, Gilly, and could sure use some of your expertise to make things right.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. Ever since you’d met Dean taking out a coven of witches who were terrorizing a small town, you’d become the one witch he trusted, so he had you on speed dial. You sometimes wondered if his feelings had been different, had he not met you as you were literally taking out the leader of the coven. He never kept quiet on his feelings about witches, which was why you vowed to never let him know how helpless you were to his charms. You’d always come when he called, but you’d always make him think it was the last thing you wanted to do. Making sure to give him the requisite amount of flak for needing you, you got his location and headed out to save his ass. Again.

When the motel room door opened, Dean’s familiar face was the first thing you saw. Time had not lessened the effect he had on you, but it only took one second for your instincts to tell you something was wrong. Taking a step back, you looked him up and down, and then pulled out your silver knife and holy water.

“Whoa, darlin’, it’s okay. Test me how ya like,” said whatever was wearing Dean, but with a lazy Southern drawl that most definitely did not belong coming out of a Winchester’s mouth. He put his arm out and allowed you to slice him with your knife and splash him with your holy water. When he didn’t react, he gestured for you to enter the room, giving you plenty of space to get by him.

You gave him a wide berth as you stepped carefully into the room, keeping your eyes on him throughout it all. Once the door was closed, you turned to see another man standing on the far side of one of the beds, keeping his distance. He was an inch or so shorter than Dean, with shorter hair, bright, blue eyes, and a close-cropped beard. You looked into his eyes for a long moment to verify what your gut was telling you.

“Dean?”

The strange face broke into a big smile, and you knew you were right. “There’s my girl!” he said, and you recognized the strange voice from the phone. He moved around the bed towards you, and you allowed him to hug you, only stiffening once you felt him surrounding you. When he let you go, you backed away suspiciously, making him deflate in front of your eyes. You’d never seen him look as defeated as he suddenly looked just then.

“Dean, what are you?”

Dean, in the body was most definitely wasn’t his, sighed before baring his teeth. A second set descended, startling you into taking another step back. He immediately closed his mouth and sat down on the bed, trying to make himself as unintimidating as possible.

“Gilly, this is Benny. He’s a friend.” You stared at Dean’s body, not knowing what to make of this. Benny offered Dean’s hand, and you shook it, swallowing past all the wrong you were feeling. “Sam’s off taking care of some personal shit, so Benny was helping me with a coven when one of the bitches cursed us.”

You sat down at the table with a thud, watching Benny sit down across from you, then looking back and forth between the two. “She switched your bodies.”

Dean, in the very foreign Benny’s body, nodded. “Exactly.”

You just kept looking back and forth between them, trying to make sense of what you were seeing and feeling. Dean felt familiar, but looked so different. Benny felt so different, but looked so familiar. It was like looking in a funhouse mirror and it was completely messing with you.

“So, when did the Dean Winchester I know start hanging out with non-humans?”

Over the next hour, Dean explained how he met Benny, and you slowly became more comfortable with both the idea and the actuality of Benny. Hearing Benny’s Louisiana accent coming out of Dean’s mouth did things to you, though, and you hoped neither man nor vampire could sense those things. Once you were all caught up on what was going on, you worked with the two men to try and figure out a way to reverse the curse. When you found you needed some rare ingredients, Benny offered to go get them and pick up some food on his way back. Dean argued that he should go, since he had Benny’s vampiric senses on his side, but Benny argued that Dean didn’t have control over them, yet.

“Besides, chief, with this face, I can get away with anything!” Benny joked, giving Dean one of his own killer smiles.

Dean couldn’t argue with that, so you were left alone with him, but in Benny’s body.

“Well, he’ll be gone for a couple of hours, so why don’t we watch a movie or something?” Dean gestured to one of the beds, and you sat down next to him while he fiddled with the remote and looked for something on the ancient TV. Even though you knew he was your Dean, your friend, your long-time crush, it still felt weird to be sitting next to the burly vampire body that housed him. Apparently, he felt the same way, since he fidgeted almost constantly after the movie started.

A half hour into the movie, you’d had enough. “Dean, what is wrong? You’re acting like you’ve got ants in your pants or something!”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t want to bug you with it. It will all be better once Benny gets back with the ingredients, anyway.”

Grabbing his hand, which was much larger than you were used to, you looked into those bright, blue eyes. “If I know what the problem is, maybe there’s something I can do to help in the meantime.”

Dean looked into your eyes for a long moment before sighing. “It’s just that everything is heightened. Sounds, smells, touch, everything. I can hear an argument a couple are having in a room three doors down, and it’s almost as loud as your heartbeat, which is just pounding in my ears, by the way.” Dean took a moment, and you sensed him holding himself back, somehow. He closed his eyes and ducked his head so you couldn’t see his face clearly. “And don’t get me started on how good you smell, Gilly. I mean, you always smell good, unless you’re covered in witch or monster guts, but right now, you smell better than apple pie, bacon cheeseburgers, and Baby’s interior all put together.”

Dean’s eyes opened, and he looked at you for a long moment, the unfamiliar blue boring into you. Your breath hitched, the thought that Dean might possibly want you beating out the wrongness you felt from him being in Benny’s body. Your cheeks flushed, telling Dean everything he wanted to know. Faster than you could even see, Dean went from sitting next to you to hovering over you. Losing his battle to control himself, he buried his head in your neck, breathing deeply. He stayed over you, no part of him actually touching you, just breathing, while you froze where you sat, your heart racing and a warmth blooming low in your belly. A conflicting stream of _wrong, right, wrong, right_ flowed through your body, confusing your senses even more than his proximity could.

“Sweetheart, I can hear your heart pounding, see the blood flowing through your veins,” Dean murmured into your ear. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were afraid of me, but that’s not what I’m smelling, is it, sweetheart?”

The warmth in your core seemed to be feeding off of the warmth radiating from Dean, growing exponentially as his breath ghosted over your skin. Nervously, you shook your head, unable to make your voice work with Dean so close. A nagging thought entered your mind, though, forcing you to clear your throat and gather your courage to speak.

“Dean, have you fed since you, you know, took over Benny’s body?”

He rested his head against your temple, still not touching you anywhere else. “I’m not hungry, if that’s what you’re asking, sweetheart. At least, not for blood.” His lips fell onto your neck and he tasted your skin, leaving open-mouthed kisses near your pulse point and scraping your skin gently with his teeth before licking it to soothe it. Shivers ran down your spine as the skin Dean was kissing was suddenly directly connected to your core, dampening your panties and taking your breath away.

A moan escaped your throat, and even though it felt wrong to kiss these lips, it was still Dean inside, and you wanted him as much as he seemed to want you. Wrapping your arms around him, you pulled him away from your neck and slammed your lips onto his. His tongue invaded your mouth as his body nestled against yours, his weight pressing down on top of you in the best way. Spreading your legs to accommodate him, you pulled your knees up to frame his hips and make it easier for him to slot his erection against your core. The two of you moved against each other, feeling the heat building between you, completely oblivious when the door opened and closed.

“Well, this is a view o’ mahself I never thought I’d get,” Dean’s voice said with Benny’s accent.

You and Dean split apart so quickly you thought he’d fall off the bed, but he managed to right himself and cover his embarrassing condition at the same time.

“Heh, sorry, Benny,” Dean said, wiping some of your lip gloss from his mouth. “Thought you’d be gone a while, yet.”

“So ya thought ya’d take my body out for a spin, huh, chief?” Benny chuckled as he set down the bags he’d brought back on the table.

All three of you chuckled nervously until you took a deep breath and dove into the bags to look for the spell ingredients. Putting everything together didn’t take long, and it was less than an hour before Dean and Benny were back where they belonged. Hearing Benny’s drawl come out of his own mouth was almost as pleasing as seeing the glint in Dean’s eye as he looked you over. When Dean put his arm around your waist and pulled you against his side, you swore you felt the building blocks of the universe slide into place. Finally, everything felt right.

Benny decided to leave the two of you alone after the switch was done, giving lame excuses that were completely transparent. You and Dean both waved from the door as he drove off in his rickety, old camper that looked like it was about to fall apart. After he was gone, you both settled back on the bed as you had been before your kiss, but this time you knew what was going to happen, and your nerves were on edge. You wiped your sweaty palms off on your jeans and took a deep breath to try and calm yourself.

Dean leaned over to you, hooking your chin on his finger until you were looking up at him, trying not to get lost in the green of eyes. “Hey. I know it was weird with me looking like Benny, but that doesn’t mean anything I said or felt was wrong. I’ve wanted you for a while, and if it took me kind of losing control of Benny’s body a bit to find out you wanted me, too, then switching places with Benny was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

This time, when Dean’s lips met yours, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.


End file.
